This Year's Love
by Cornorama
Summary: Story premise begins after the boat capsizes in the Novel Scarlett. This is a Rhettcentric story. Complete and soon to be a topic on the GWTW podcast ofiddledeedee.
1. Flight of a fallen angel

**A/N revised 3/10/09**

**THIS IS A ONE SHOT (famous last words) Don't ask for more, there isn't any that I know of, (read that I know of) but my brain is a sort of attic jumble so I suppose you never know (you know now, its a 17 chapter one shot) **

**Has NOTHING TO DO WITH FACING THE ENEMY (that is still true)...not a misplaced chapter or flashback or anything (also still true). Just one shot (liar liar)**

**For Dani...it was then, it still is now.**

He only meant to leave the note he had hastily scrawled out on stationary purloined from his sister's desk along with the hothouse roses he'd selected especially for her and leave. Run away from her yet again. Run toward a distant, unknown future; a future that did not include her. A future that could not include her; not if he was to hold onto his sanity.

He hadn't lied to her in the shack on the beach. She was a indeed a sickness in his blood. She was an obsession, a narcotic that enslaved him, completely dominating his self-control and sensibilities. He had to break free and escape; he had to run if he wanted to escape unscathed.

Unscathed? That was a joke though; wasn't it, he though as he placed the vase on her bedside table where she would be sure to see it the instant she awoke from her deep slumber. He propped the envelope against the base of the vase.

She stirred slightly and the brief spat of movement tore at his heart. She was so fragile and pale lying in bed with her dark lashes fanned against the slight rise of her cheek. He reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers, but instead merely moved his fingers down the sweep of her cheek, in the air, above her face.

He dropped heavily into the chair his mother recently had vacated, his body weighed down with exhaustion and sadness. She would see the flowers first. If he knew anything at all about the way her mind worked she would smiled that satisfied grin of hers, the one that lit her eyes from within, coloring them emerald bright. But then, she would see the envelope with her name in his precise script. She would no doubt grab it greedily, thinking that it was a note wishing her a speedy recovery or a missive pouring out his heart to her.

But he had no heart; he knew that for certain now. Earlier, as he folded the note that now waited slyly at the base of the vase he wondered, could there be another way to do this to her, a kinder way? But nothing presented itself and so he would hurt her yet again.

One more blow, one last departing shot.

Would she hate him, bleed for him, long for him, would she continue to love him, albeit from afar? Perhaps, at least for a time. But, she was after all Scarlett O'Hara; she would find a new love. He hoped she would find a love that might last her the rest of her life. He wouldn't divorce her until she met him, her phantom love. He would, when the time came, let her go. But not without meeting, face to face, the man that would love her. Love her as she deserved to be loved: fully, without any hesitation or conditions.

When that time came, he would be nonchalant and casually remark, "Took you longer than I expected," just so she would never suspect that what lies on the surface was not what lies beneath.

It was then that her eyes slowly opened. Her lips moved and he leaned forward to catch the words that she whispered.

"You came, I knew if I kept calling for you, you'd come. You've always come when I needed you." Her eyelids drooped and closed, veiling her haunting eyes from view.

She moved again and he started in his chair. Slowly, her head fell to one side. Her eyes were still closed and she was breathing deeply.

He wanted nothing more than to find himself on his feet, out in the hall, making his way to the front stairs.

He wanted nothing more than to stay.


	2. Moth to a Scarlett Flame

**Ok , I lied, is there such a thing as a two-shot?**

He hadn't intended to return after leaving her in his mother's care after their accident. But the ties that bound him to Scarlett were not as easy to sever as he'd hoped. He found that no amount of alcohol blotted out her pale, still face as she lay unconscious in the Yankee Sergeant's arms.

He had thought that he might lose her and if that had happened there wouldn't have been enough alcohol to wash away the memory of the time they had spent on the beach. He would have relieved those moments again and again until copious amounts of alcohol finally poisoned him. Now he found, more and more since he'd left that he didn't want to forget. That no matter how much he drank or how many whores he bedded he could not forget the way her skin had felt under his mouth and hands, the way her eyes looked at him with such love and desire.

He couldn't live with her, but how could he hope to live without her. It was a question he could not answer, and so he had done what he had always done before. He had come back to her. He had returned to his mother's house dreading their reunion and awaiting it quiet resignation. He could never hope to cut her adrift in the world. No matter how hard he pushed, she would always stand her ground. And he was coming to discover that maybe he didn't want to push her away, that he was as much to blame as she was for the course of their marriage and it's demise.

With a conflicted heart and mind he stopped before her door. They needed to get away, just the two of them. To somewhere new, somewhere without memories, somewhere they could try to reach an understanding.

"Scarlett, if you stay much longer my mother will have to start charging you rent," said Rhett with a smirk, as he opened the door to the room she'd occupied since her unannounced, not to mention uninvited, arrival in November.

The coverlet in the bed was neatly smoothed down and the fussy decorative pillows his otherwise sensible mothers chose to decorate with were perfectly arranged. There was no sign that the room had been recently occupied by anyone. A grim look of ire settled on his swarthy face.

Ever the opportunist, she must have taken it on herself to move her belongings into his room while he was gone, no doubt assuming that he would simply roll over and accept her invasion of his room. Well, he thought, we will see about that Mrs. Butler. However, he had to admit to himself that it wasn't so much that he minded, it was just that if he gave Scarlett an inch she would try to take a mile.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he found nothing out of the ordinary. A glance made him aware that nothing was different from when he'd left a week ago. It was apparent that the numerous trunks that Scarlett had descended upon the house with weren't monopolizing space in his room.

She was gone.

He lowered himself into a chair before the fireplace; his hand resting on it's back for support. She was gone. He had told her to leave, left her no alternative, and for once in her life, Scarlett O'Hara had surrendered. His heart literally ached in his chest and for a moment he wondered if he might not have a heart attack. But he knew this pain, recognized it from when he'd lost Bonnie. He had tried to block out how much he had hurt when he lost Bonnie. For a time he had nearly succeeded, but now losing Scarlett as well brought it all back. He had had two great loves in his life, his wife and their daughter; and now he was alone.

He hurt knowing that he might never see her again, but it also hurt knowing that she had fought so hard for Ashley Wilkes, but when it came to him, she had simply given up. Turned her back on him and departed. But, departed for where?

Rising painfully, feeling every second of his forty-six years, he made his way downstairs. Mother was out, no doubt committing random acts of decency, but maybe Rosemary would have some idea where Scarlett might have gone.

He cleared his throat gently and she looked up from the pad in her lap. "Rhett," she cried, coming quickly to her feet and embracing her brother, she held him close. "I'm so glad you're home, so very glad."

"It's nice to see you too," he said with a weary smile. "Scarlett's gone?" he asked casually, all the while praying that maybe, just maybe, she had gone to the Aunts or even the Landing to await his return.

But Rosemary's words poured water on the tiny ember of hope that burned in his chest. "I know, she left the day after you did. She didn't even say good-bye to mother, can you believe the sheer nerve? Mother was so hurt."

He nodded, trying to keep the eager note that threatened to emerge out of his voice. "She didn't speak to mother? Did you see her off?"

Rosemary shook her head disdainfully. "Certainly not. Well, I did see her before she left, just not intentionally. She swept into her like the Queen of Sheba and announced she was leaving. She told me to give her love to mother, I think she just couldn't face her after her repeatedly poor conduct throughout her visit." She sat on the sofa and smiled warmly. "Well, good riddance to a bad lot. You're finally rid of her," she smiled brightly, but it had a brittle quality to it, "how does it feel to be a free man at last?"

"Did she tell you where she was going?"

With a shrug and a roll of her eyes she replied, "To hell in a hand basket most likely."

"I'm serious."

"No. She told me she was going and to give her love to mother. Then she had a cab haul all of her things to the depot and that was that."

"Did she leave a note?"

Her eyelid twitched nervously, but with a voice as soft as down she lied to her brother. "No. I told you, she was very terse. She told me she was leaving really just as the cab pulled up. Not one for drawn out farewells, is she." There, I've done it. No going back now. But at least he seems to be calm, she thought guiltily. "Rhett? This is what you wanted; you did the best you could. But she must have known, her change of heart came to late. It's sad, but true."

He was old suddenly, as though he had aged before her very eyes. Gone was the dashing pirate prince that inspired longing glances from maids and matrons alike. In his place was a broken, old man that she barely recognized. "I think she did love me, in the end."

"I think she loved what she couldn't have."

"I wonder if she left because it was what I wanted. Maybe, she wanted to give me what I wanted because she cares for me."

"Rhett," cautioned Rosemary, "Don't second guess yourself. You've done the right thing. She is out of our lives and I know it hurts, but you shouldn't dwell on it. You told me that you couldn't continue on as you were. This is for the best."

His sister's eyes were eager; over bright with something he couldn't place. "Was she still ill when she left."

"No, she was the picture of gaudy, over decorated health when she departed. Now, leave it alone Rhett. I was in the middle of a letter. I would put that aside in a wink to talk with you, that is so long as the topic isn't Scarlett O'Hara."

"Butler."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She is Scarlett Butler."

"Not for much longer," returned Rosemary sharply.

He heard the disapproval in her voice, but he was too tired to pick up the gauntlet she'd just unwittingly hurled down. "No, not for much longer. Will you excuse me, I'm a little worn out from my trip. I believe I'll just go upstairs and lie down before dinner. Have Manigo wake me, won't you?"

"Of course. Sleep well big brother."

He didn't answer her, but with a weighted tread, he made his way upstairs.

She listened to his heavy footfalls overhead with a frown on her plain face. Wasn't that just like a man, she thought bitterly? All season he wanted her gone, and now that she is finally gone he wishes she wasn't.

A twinge of guilt pricked her conscience. Scarlett had left two notes. One for mother, telling her that she was going to Savannah for her grandfather's birthday and she would be sure to write when she returned to Atlanta.

And one for Rhett. Opening her tablet of paper she withdrew the short note she'd concealed and after re-reading it for what seemed like the hundredth time, she knew she'd done the right thing. Rhett was a hard man in many ways, but he wasn't made of stone. There was a chance, however slim, that her words might sway him and break his resolve. He would only be sorry in the long run.

_Rhett,_

_It is times like this one that I wish I were better with words, if I were then maybe I could put to paper everything that is in my heart. But then again, maybe it is better that I am lacking when it comes to putting my thoughts into words. Because at least you know what I write here comes from the heart._

_I never thought that I would love you as much as I do, I never thought myself capable of loving another person the way I love you. In spite of the hurt that comes from that love, I wouldn't trade it for anything in all the world. _

Leaving like this, admitting defeat, is the hardest thing I've ever done. I thought I could stay, fight this battle and emerge the victor. I had intended to never concede and admit I was defeated. But how can I stay and cause you more pain if I love you the way I say I do? I can't. I wish we could see one another, face to face, and say goodbye. But that simply isn't meant to be. We aren't meant to be. I couldn't accept that painful truth when I arrived and a tiny part of me doesn't believe it even now as I watch Pansy pack the last of my things. I wish I could hold you responsible for how things have turned out, but that wouldn't be fair. Nether of us said the things we should have and instead we said all the things we shouldn't have.

_I know I am wrong, but I still hold on to some small shred of hope that you might yet realize you still do love me, that you long for me just as I hurt without you. I will be in Savannah at Grandfather Robillard's for the foreseeable future. If you change your mind, if you decide you were wrong, come for me. I swear there won't be any anger or cruel words. Only love. _

_I love you; remember that always. In the end you won my love and it will be yours as long as I live._

_Scarlett_

With a sigh, Rosemary crumpled the note into a ball and pitched it into the fireplace. The smell of singed paper soon filled the room as she watched the flames eagerly leap to devour Scarlett's note. There was no turning back now; she could never tell Rhett that there had been a note. But it was for the best. In time he would heal and move forward with his life. A new life, free from the poisonous reach of Scarlett. The sooner he forgot her, the better.

It would take time, but at least she could breath easy knowing she would never have to lay eyes on Scarlett ever again, and neither would Rhett. That comfort was worth the sleepless nights she would endure wondering if she'd done the right thing by lying to her brother.


	3. The Ties that Bind

**Stupid story, don't you know you were a one shot**

It had been nearly a month since he had returned to Charleston only to find Scarlett gone. He had hoped that the distance between them physically would translate to an ability to distance his mind from thoughts of her.

It was becoming clear to him though that distance truly did not make the heart or mind forgetful. In fact, being away from her made him think of her constantly.

There was a dull, aching feeling in his heart which continued unabated since discovering she had left for good. But, he believed that with time that would fade. One day he would feel nothing for her, nothing save a certain measure of nostalgia.

He had to cling to that belief , for it was that belief that enabled him to rise each day and live a semblance of a normal life.

When he had left her at his mother's house, he had thought that he did not want her; he had finally succeeded in convincing himself of that. Indeed, he had thought while jamming some clothes into a small valise, it no longer mattered in the slightest whether or not he ever saw Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler again.

Last month, while he had been in Colombia waiting to return to Charleston, he had bedded several whores. During that short week in which he had been away from her, he had struggled against memories of her, tried desperately to exercise her from his conciousness by being unfaithful to her with his body.

His mind and heart, on the other hand, had refused to comply. Every woman he took to his bed threatened to became Scarlett. Though the years he had sometimes taken to bed women who looked like Scarlett. But he had finally reached a point where the women he took upstairs had to be the antithesis of Scarlett O'Hara.

He had made a grievous error in judgment his first night in Colombia, by taking upstairs a girl with raven hair and startling green eyes. She had tried her best, plying every art of her trade, but in the end he had rolled over and faced the wall, unable to meet her searching green eyes. The green and ivory stripped wall paper blurred for a moment and blinking rapidly, he was amazed and horrified to discover that there were tears in his eyes.

Disgust made his voice harsh as he told her to get out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized in a voice that seemed sincere, "I can ask Mama Lou to send another girl up, if you like?"

When he did not answer he felt the bed dip slightly as she got up.

Listening to her gather her clothes, he shrugged a bare shoulder. Sensing she was waiting for a verbal response, he was curt, not wishing to disclose his inner turmoil. "Don't bother, another night perhaps."

She rested a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Do I look too much like her…or not enough?"

Was he turned so transparent by his pain that even an illiterate whore could see through him? Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling. One side of his mouth lifted. "Too much, I suppose," he admitted

She nodded, "Mama Lou won't give you any of your money back, but she'll give you another crack at a girl. There's one, Missy, she's got the reddest hair I've ever seen."

Tossing the covers aside, he shook his head dismissively. "Thank you, but no. As I said, another night."

His first night in Colombia had not turned into the night of debauchery he had sought out, but even so, he had found himself feeling guilty at betraying Scarlett while she was most likely still lying in bed at his mother's house.

He would be damned if he would allow thoughts of Scarlett to consume him.He did not return to Mama Lou's house, but there were other establishments he could frequent, and frequent them he did.

For the rest of that week, the girls he chose after that first disastrous night were, for the most part, blondes with blue eyed and rosy complexions. One was a redhead that was slightly fleshy in a pleasant, welcoming way that in no way remind him of Scarlett. He gave her a handful of money before he left just because of that, cautioning her to hide her unexpected windfall from the madam of the house.

Walking back to his hotel, he could still smell the heavy scent that his bed partner had been wearing. It clung to his skin and clothes and he found his steps picking up as he hurried toward his hotel. Despite the late hour he would order a bath and soak until the smell dissipated.

As he sank into the tub, he turned his eyes toward the neatly made up bed. The pillows were the exact kind that Scarlett preferred, overstuffed to the point of looking like they were ready to burst.

Sinking lower in the tub, he closed his eyes, a brief, hot flash of pain twisted his heart. Was he so pitiful that even the pillows on a hotel bed could trigger memories of Scarlett?

He had never made it a practice to lie to himself. If he could not trust himself, who else could he trust. Searching his heart, he was able to form an honest answer to the question. The answer was yes, sweet Jesus, yes. One of his secret pleasures when they had been first married was to bury his face in her pillow after she had left for the store or the mills.

Her scent had clung to the fabric and he would inhale it with a smile that bore no resemblance to the smirk that so often shaped his lips. She was finally his wife, he had her and nothing would ever take her from him.

He cursed violently. Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life occupied with thoughts of her? Checking the clock on the mantle, he found it to be after two. The water had cooled and he found himself grateful for the fire that was slowing burning down to glowing embers. Toweling himself dry, he found that he could not tear his eyes from the bed.

It no longer mattered if he ever smelled her familiar scent on the pillow next to him in the morning. It no longer mattered that he would never find her with her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she muddled her way through book keeping. It certainly was no concern of his that she was probably missing him. Wanting him. Dreaming of him.

No, none of that mattered anymore. 


	4. The Claws that Catch

**ok, this story is something different than my usual style. If this part appears repetitive or disjointed it should...it is a drunk Rhett, pondering. I'd like to meet the person who does linear thought while drunk lol.**

Sometimes, if he worked hard enough at the Landing during the day and drank enough at night, he began to almost believe the lies his weary mind spun. Almost.

She had been gone a month. Every day seemed longer than the one that preceded it. His alcohol fogged mind struggled against even thinking of her. But, as he sat slumped in a chair before the fire in his study at Dunmore Landing he usually lost that battle. She had begun haunting him, with a frequency that he could have never imagined possible.

His memories of Scarlett had become a specter of sorts, haunting both his waking hours and sleepless nights. When he did manage to sleep, she was there. Waiting for him, her flashing emerald eyes taunting him.

She knew, in his dreams, that no matter how hard he tried to rend her from his heart and banish her from his thoughts, he was incapable of such a Herculean task.

Dreaming of her was nothing new, he had been doing it on and off for years, ever since the bazaar in Atlanta. When he had taken her in his arms during the first waltz of the evening, he had known that in all the world there was no other woman for him. One day win her heart. One day she would say the same words to him that she had to that imbecile Ashley Wilkes, 'I love you.' And then he would tell her, pour out the contents of his secret ridden heart. When he finally heard those words from her lips he would spend the rest of his life loving her so completely that all thoughts of Ashley Wilkes would be washed from her mind.

Liar, his guilty conscience whispered, she did tell you she loved you and you threw it in her face. His God damned conscience, absent during the last twenty some odd years had finally returned, with a vengeance. Now, his newly returned conscience was his constant companion.

He wanted to hate everything concerning her. Hate wanting her, hate wondering about her, hate the way that he blamed her completely for his current state.

It was her fault because she was too vibrant, and too beautiful, and he had always wanted her too much. She was the embodiment of everything he had ever looked for in a woman. He could not say wife because the idea of taking a wife had always been so foreign to him. There had never been a woman of his acquaintance before Scarlett that he cared about so passionately.

The season had nearly come to an end and through it all he had been able to resist her considerable charms. There had been times that he had nearly weakened, God help him he could not deny that truth, but he had remanded strong.

Ever since that night on the rain soaked beach he had been mired down in a pit of regret and guilt. He had almost lost her. For a split second he had thought that she was gone, that she had stopped breathing. He would relieve those moments again and again until the endless amounts of liqueur he consumed each night finally rendered him unconscious.

When he was drunk enough to overcome some of his grievances against her, he could see the hard truth that was clear as crystal. Not all of the current mess they were in was Scarlett's fault. He knew it wasn't all her fault, yet a part of him continued to try and blame her completely. Because, if everything that had gone wrong between them was her fault, it couldn't be his.

Sometimes he wondered if the only reason he was so consumed by thoughts of her was because he had driven her away.

He had practically ignored her during the time she had been under his mother's roof. Whenever he could go over to the Landing, he had.

He had dismissed her out of hand because he felt that he had earned the right to treat her that way. She had never given him the chance to show how much he loved her, he had never told her because she was a callous, cruel little bitch who would have shredded his heart with the claws she hardly ever sheathed.

Except, you never gave her a reason to give you a chance, his heart cried out. He wanted to argue, after all, he had showered her with everything she had wanted; money for Tara, a mansion, jewelry and gowns. But, he had never told her that he loved her in a way that could be construed as anything other than flippant.

She had never given him a chance because he had never given her the right incentive. He had never even hinted that he would have rewarded even the smallest amount of effort with his heart.

His goddamn memory, it plagued him with a barrage of missed chances, regrets, and loss.

After they had returned to his mother's house on the Battery he had left her those god damned flowers and that stupid note. Whenever he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep, he could see her face as she scanned the contents of his hastily written note.

Had she cried? Scarlett hated to cry. She was sure it marked her as weak and soft. Had his words reduced her to tears? He prayed that in spite of everything that had passed between them he hadn't driven her to tears.

She was so strong, the strongest person he'd ever known. Stronger certainly than he was. When he had realized he loved her, he had alternately teased her or degraded her. Scarlett was so different; when she had finally discovered her love for him she immediately confessed it. Confessed only to be pitied and then dismissed.

And yet, she had rallied against what could have only been a crushing disappointment to her fragile hope for the future. After having such a monumental gift hurled back in her face, she had still come to him in Charleston, knowing that he might not welcome her with open arms.

He had returned to Charleston ready to try again. He would not have made it easy for her, but he had at least been willing to accept her efforts with an open mind. There was a large margin for failure, but he had finally accepted that she was his destiny.

He had left her for a week. During that week he had accepted the inevitable, and given the same span of time, with the evidence at hand, so had she.

After everything that had transpired between them throughout the years, his desertion had been the final load to be thrust upon her slender shoulders. He had left her when she needed him with only a note and some flowers to show that he acknowledged her existence.

Just as he had been ready to concede that it couldn't be over between them, Scarlett had accepted that their marriage was over.

Cross purposes once again. With a twisted grimace, he used his penknife to slit open the heavy gilt paper covering the whiskey bottle's cork. Sleep wouldn't come tonight, but the oblivion of being senselessly intoxicated would.

At least he could say one thing for being drunk. It made the time pass that much faster. But, where, his weary mind questioned, was he in such a hurry to get to?

As he took a swig from the bottle, something nagged at him, a vital piece of the puzzle that was her hasty departure. There was something off, and he couldn't put a finger on it.


	5. Hopes and Fears

He closed the door to the Peachtree Street house behind him. She wasn't there, and from the empty feeling of disuse, she hadn't been there since she'd come to Charleston in November.

Looking up at the evening star, just visable in the still glowing sky, he debated where to go next. Ashley Wilkes came to mind immediately, but he could not go to him and confess that Scarlett had left without leaving a so much as a note. He knew that it was foolish to dismiss approaching Ashley out of hand. Pride was encouraging him to cut off his nose to spite his face.

After all, he reasoned logically, Ashley would be someone Scarlett would confide in. But, he could not bear to see the man that had held Scarlett's heart for so long look at him with anything that might resemble pity. And, knowing full well how battle worn he looked, Ashley might very well feel cause to pity him. He remembered his words to Ashley when Miss Melly was dying and he'd come to the house to ask Rhett to send for Scarlett in Marietta.

"_You're sure?" Rhett asked quietly._

_Ashley bowed his head. "Yes. Doctor Meade says that he thinks she is just trying to hold on to see Scarlett."_

"_I'll send a telegram for her. If she catches a train in the next few hours, she'll be home by tonight."_

_Ashley lifted his head to look Rhett in the eye. "Melly and Scarlett have been so close these last twelve years, how will she be able to go one alone." His eyes clouded and for a single, horrifying moment, Rhett thought Ashley might start to cry. But he only shook his head wearily. "How will any of us go on without her? The thought of coming home every night and her not being there, she was the reason to come home."_

Home and Scarlett seemed to go hand in hand. Where she was, he could make a home. There had been a great deal of sense in Ashley's words. A home was only a home when there was someone to return to at the end of each day

Never, in all the time he had know her, had he needed to see her as desperately as he did now. The growing sense of dread that was building within him was throwing him off kilter. He hardly felt like himself anymore. He could not push down the thought that something was wrong, that everything he knew to be true was false and vice versa.

He had thought that he could let her go. He had tried to convince himself there could be value in a life lived without her. But then something happened to show him otherwise. The previous week he had gone over to the Landing. He had only been able to stay at his mother's house a few days before her worrying glances and gentle, but probing questions had driven him away.

It was at the Landing that he had finally found himself at the bottom of his downward spiral. While slitting the heavy gilt paper cap topping the bottle of whiskey he planned on consuming until he was numb, he had slipped and cut his hand leaving a two inch long gash across the back of his hand. He put the knife down on the table and fumbled in his pocket for his handkerchief. Holding it tightly against the oozing wound, he watched as his hands shook slightly. He was trembling. The constant drinking and lack of sleep was destroying him from the inside out, just as it had nearly done when Bonnie had died.

The wound stopped bleeding and he reached again for the bottle. But, staring down at his hand, he was able to draw it back empty. When he left the next day, the bottle sat on the small occasional table next to his armchair, it's contents untouched. It had taken his last reserve of strength to stop him self from picking up the bottle and downing the amber liquid. He nearly drank himself to death when he lost Bonnie. There had been, to his mind, nothing to live for and no reason to stop. This time there was a reason to stop. Scarlett was not dead. She was out there, somewhere, and maybe, just maybe, she missed him just as much as he missed her.

Since the moment he had found her missing, there was something eluding him about the whole situation. Something just beyond his grasp. If he did return to Charleston without her, he would question Rosemary again. Maybe his sister would remember something, anything, that might led him to Scarlett.

He hurried down the pathway, leaving the house behind. His next instinct was to go to the train station and wait for the next train to Jonesborough and from there he would make his way to Tara.

He wanted to go to Tara. The irony was not lost on him. Tara had always been Scarlett's touchstone, the place she retreated to when she needed to lick her wounds and formulate new strategies. It seemed so appealing to walk the red earth of Tara, to wander the places she'd taken him when they'd visited after returning from New Orleans. Maybe she was there now, sitting by the river Flint on the log where they'd sat watching the sunset on their last night at Tara.

"_This is where I would wait for Pa. He would come riding hell for leather, trying to make it in time for dinner. He hated to be late because he knew that mother didn't like it. He always tried so hard to make her happy."_

"_You loved them both a great deal, you must miss them very much. Is it hard, being here without them?"_

_She smiled softly. "It should be, but it isn't. When I'm here, it feels as though they are nearby. It's actually sometimes harder in Atlanta. I wonder if that's why Uncle Henry makes his monthly visits to Aunt Pitty. He says its to give Pitty her allowance, but I think he comes so he can sit in his father's chair and be at home again, even if it's only for a little while."_

Henry Hamilton. He had planned on seeing him in the morning if she wasn't at the house, but now he felt as though he could not close his eyes and sleep the night through if he didn't see Henry immediately. He would know where Scarlett was. No matter where she went, she would never be out of contact with Henry. He would know where she was. If Henry said she was at Tara, he would leave in the morning.

He couldn't explain his mounting desperation to see her; it was just there, a part of him. Something he tried to ignore, but it was there. Urging him on. Telling him that he needed to find her, the more time went by, the more he worried. He knew now that he could not live without. What if she were coming to the exact opposite conclusion. All their lives, they had been at cross purposes, what made him think that would suddenly change.

Once, not so long ago, he had intended to make her work for his forgiveness. No longer was that even an option. When saw her again, he would take her in his arms and just hold her close. She wouldn't need to work for his forgiveness because there was nothing to forgive. They had both wronged one another in different ways in the past, what mattered was their future. A future that would never come to pass if he couldn't' find her.

It was going to be a long train ride back to Charleston. Sitting in a private compartment, Rhett Butler faced disappointment head on. Henry had refused to divulge Scarlett's location. He admitted that Scarlett had contacted him, but he was not at liberty to give him anything further. Upon further inquiry, he admitted that he was in truth unable to give him the address. She had sent the message by courier and so he did not know how to contact her.

During most of the conversation, Henry had toyed with various objects on his desk. Clearly the old man was not happy at the position Scarlett had put him in. Could he use that to his advantage? Perhaps if he exerted a little force, Henry could tell him what he wanted to know with a clear conscience. If Henry were forced into reveling her whereabouts, then he would not be breaking her confidence.

But Henry had proved to be far more stout hearted than he had previously suspected.

"_Can't or won't? You could help me if you choose to. You can't expect me to believe that Scarlett left you with no way to contact her. No way you could reach her if there were an emergency? She would never give up control like that, it isn't in her nature."_

Still Henry denied any knowledge of Scarlett's present location. Sitting further back into his seat, it made him cringe to recall the note of desperation that had worked its way into his voice. Such a display of blatant need shamed him. It drove him to an extreme he once would have never thought himself possible of resorting to, threats and demands.

He demanded to know where Scarlett was or, he threatened, there would be serious ramifications for all involved. If Henry did not disclose her location, he would be guilty of harboring a runaway wife. At Henry's sputtered denial, Rhett flatly interrupted, telling him that he would charge Scarlett with abandonment and then she would stand to lose her divorce settlement and any claims to marital property, including the Peachtree Street house. Furthermore, Henry would stand in ill favor with the bar association of Georgia for keeping a husband from his wife.

It had been low and desperate and in the end, it hadn't worked. Henry had smiled kindly and apologized, but he still stood by his earlier assertion. Scarlett had contacted him, but she had not left anyway from him to reach her.

Before he left, he reminded Henry of his duty. He had tried threats, logic, and reason. Nothing had worked. Rising to his feet, he had turned at the door, his hand lightly resting on the handle.

"

"_Henry, don't let her involve you in this." His face was drawn and tired. There were bags under his eyes from not enough sleep and too much alcohol. Rhett knew just how beaten he looked. Just looking at him would have told Henry that everything he might suspect was indeed true. With nothing left to conceal, he felt able to admit the one, simple truth that had brought him to Atlanta in the first place. "I need to find her."_

_There was kindness in his eyes. It was a pitying kindness toward a man who appeared as though he had been only recently bent on self-destruction. "I wish you luck, but I have nothing further for you. He looked over Rhett's head slightly, refusing t meet his eyes. "I am sorry if you don't believe me. I told Scarlett that I would not represent her if the two of you pursued divorce. That being the case, I would prefer it if you did not contact me concerning Scarlett."_

Knowing that Henry's mind was made up, he'd left after making Henry promise to tell Scarlett he was looking for her if she contacted him again.

He knew that Henry was lying, but it would do no good to press the issue. It must have eaten at Henry, as old fashioned as he was, to help Scarlett elude her husband. For a man of Henry's age, a woman's place was by her husband's side, but if Henry had given Scarlett his word, he'd keep it, no matter the cost, personally or professionally.

So Ashley Wilkes was out of the question, Henry was unable or more likely, unwilling to help, and thanks to Belle he now knew for sure that she wasn't at Tara. One of the men Belle employed in the bar to keep out the rowdier patrons had ridden out to the O'Hara plantation. He had returned with confirmation of what Rhett had suspected all along. Mrs. Butler had made a visit to the plantation in October of the previous year to leave her children with her sister. She had returned for a few days in mid February only to leave again, alone. The children were still at Tara. Suellen might know where Scarlett was, but maybe not. The sisters were not close and perhaps Scarlett would not have confided in her sister that she was estranged from her husband.

If it came to it, he would hire a man to watch Tara. Sooner or later, she would return to the land she loved so dearly. The children would also draw her back eventually. She was not a particularly fond parent but, she would go to Tara to see her children if she decided not to send for them.

Watching the scenery fly by, he lost himself in thought. If she wasn't in Atlanta and she wasn't at Tara, where could she be? Scarlett had never expressed any great desire to travel, where would she go now? And how long would she stay there? Questions plagued his weary mind and he didn't have answers for any of them.


	6. Wings of Mourning

The disappointment he felt at returning to Charleston without her tasted of bitterest gall. His mother's house on the Battery felt close and, unable to breathe, he fled to the Landing where he could gather his thoughts and decide on the next course of action to pursue. He wanted his wife back with him; in his bed and by his side. She had unequivocally broken his once firm resolve against succumbing to her charms. If she were to appear before him now, he would offer her his heart if she still wanted it without any restrictions or exceptions.

He found part of what he missed the most was her company. He missed the simple things about her nature that he'd always taken for granted. The way she used to push the lock of hair that fell across his forehead back with a mischievous half smile. The way she would take her hair down at night and not pick up her brush until every single hairpin was back in it's dish. The thousand inconsequential things a man noticed about his wife that taken individually were of no real importance, but when viewed as the sum became the total of ones parts.

He found himself dwelling on her face and form as he would walk for sometimes what amounted to miles across the land the Landing's boundaries encompassed.

Certainly Scarlett's charm rested not so much on her physical appearance as in her vivacious personality, her bravery and other accomplishments. She would never be described as a great beauty, but even those who despised her admitted that she was a powerful blend of fascination and seductiveness.

Her soft rose tinged complexion served as the perfect base for her startling black brows and hair, giving her a captivating aura of something forgiven, something exotic and strange. Her eyes were especially striking: "slightly tilted at the corners like a cat's and she knew how to use them with the maximal effect.

It was the first time in his life since he had found her at the bazaar in Atlanta that he didn't know where she was resting her head at night. The world was not a kind place and no matter how strong, how courageous he knew her to be, she also needed kindness. If he could find her, it would be a second chance and he vowed, he would meet this chance as a changed man.

He had sworn upon leaving her at his mother's after the accident that he would be alone. He would take pleasure where he found it and not tie himself to any one place and certainly not to any one woman. But oaths vowed could be oaths broken. It had been a month and a half since he'd last laid eyes on her. Each day passed, mocking him. Each day sure that it would be the day on which he surrendered and let her go.

But he couldn't surrender. He could never let her go. She was in his blood. She was in the sweat of his brow as he worked diligently to bring the Landing back to it's former glory. She was in his dreams each night and his thoughts each day. She consumed him like fire does the candle. He only hoped he would find her before his need for her was extinguished. He would always love her, but in time, he would learn to live without her. Fear would once more build its walls around his heart and he could never allow her in again.

_VNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVNVVN_

Two more weeks passed with no sign of Scarlett. He had exhausted all the places he would expect her to seek refuge in. He had bribed ships captains for passenger lists looking for that one name that would ease his state of concern. She could take care of herself; he had no doubt. But, he didn't want her to have to rely only on herself.

When he had been sitting in judgment of her supposed crimes against the love he carried for her, he had prided himself on having been there in all the moments she'd needed him most. Now, with the combination of distance and the cold, pitiless magnifying glass of painful honesty he saw the times and ways he had failed her.

She had been so sad that night on Pitty's porch during the siege, having received a letter from her father stating that her mother was ill. Indeed, when he had stepped up on the porch, her eyes still held unshed tears. He had been kind, but only for a moment or two. The he had baited her. Instead of offering her comfort or an attentive ear, he suggested she become his mistress. Now, doing the arithmetic, he had concluded that the night she had sat rocking she had been all of twenty years old. Her mother was sick, the man she thought she loved was most likely dead, and the way of life she had grown up in was about to tumble to dust. A great deal of tragedy had befallen her and there was still more to come.

The miscarriage. He had never even so much as opened the door to her room. Not even for a moment to see if she was alive or dead. He assumed she would be dead, that she could not live. She had been so bloodless and still when he had gathered her into his arms at the bottom of the stairs. He had left her in that sweltering, dim bedroom to live or die, on her own. Just as he had on the road to Tara, just as he had after the accident when she went to Tara. He could have gone with her, or joined her once he had settled things with Miss Melly. He could have seen her through her convalescence. He could have waited to leave Charleston until after he was absolutely sure that she had suffered no ill effects from their near drowning.

He had never been there when she had needed him. The truth was he had only ever done things in half measures when it came to Scarlett. Gotten her out of Atlanta, but not home. Married her, but never let her into his heart. Loved her, but never told her so. He finally saw clearly and that knowledge sat heavy on him. The more he saw, the less he was sure that Scarlett could truly love him. How could she?

For in addition to all of his other crimes, both real and imagined, he had single-handedly killed their little princess. As he gathered her broken body from the ground she had been so like her mother, white as snow and utterly without movement. He had willed her to just breathe, to show that there was something akin to mercy in the world. If she had lived then, he would have paid the cost, no matter how dear…but hadn't he thought that as he held Scarlett? Hadn't he told God to take anything he possessed, if only she lived? But damn it, he had meant the baby she carried. Or even him. Not Bonnie, never Bonnie. Had his rash and frantic pray caught the attention of a cruel and vengeful God, seeking retribution for a lifetime of misdeeds?

Except, for that to be true, there would have to be a God, he thought bitterly.

That night, the bottle on the occasional table, neglected since before Atlanta, barely served to whet his thirst for dreamless slumber.


	7. Tunes for Bears to dance to

**This story borrows elements from A. Ripley's SCARLETT, but it is not a retelling of the events of the novel from Rhett's point of view. Just wanted to clarify.**

**Thank you all for reading.**

**p.s Any similarities between my work and Rhett Butler's People is a terrible coiencidence. If you haven't bought a copy yet, order it from the library first.**

"_Daddy, trains are funny," said Bonnie, as the scenery hurtled past the windows, "do you know how come?"_

_He smiled down at his princess. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful in her lamb's wool jacket with a matching hat trimmed in blue streamers and feathers. He had bought it for her in London and she had insisted on saving it until they went home. Home to Scarlett, home to her adored mother. An adoration that came as an unpleasant surprise. He knew that his daughter loved her mother, but he had never suspected the true depth of those feelings until they were away from Scarlett._

_They had been away three months and though she was happy with him; her mother was never off of her mind. Every day she asked him what he thought her mother might be doing at any given time, when he selected gifts for Wade and Ella she had insisted on buying things for her mother. He had left Atlanta in an attempt to forget Scarlett, but with a flesh and blood reminder accompanying him that was impossible. He could not put her from his mind or his heart. She was a drug and like an addict he was forced to return to the source of his addiction once more._

_She tugged his sleeve impatiently. "Daddy, did you hear me?"_

"_I did honey, so tell me, why are trains funny?"_

"_Because we're going back the way we came, it's like remembering something back wards."_

_He smiled at her astute observation. "I suppose that's true, sweetheart."_

"_When are we going to be home?" she asked with a slight pout._

"_A few more hours. It's a long ride, isn't it?"_

_She nodded her head up and down rapidly several times; her dark curls bouncing. "Do you think mother will be home from work when we get there? If she's not, can we go to the mills and surprise her and Uncle Ashley?" _

_His cheek twitched spasmodically as he clenched his jaw. They wouldn't be the first people to surprise Scarlett and Ashley at the mills. "No. The mill isn't a place for children. If she isn't home, we'll wait."_

He awoke with a start. Bonnie still felt so close, so near that he wanted to search the house for her. But he knew she was gone. With a razor sharp clarity that cut his heart out from his chest he knew. Just as he knew that Scarlett was truly gone. She had finally gone, where he did not know. That afternoon when they had returned to the Peachtree Street house she had been there, waiting for them.

He found out later from Mammy that she'd hardly left the house since he'd taken Bonnie. The only times she went out was when Mrs. Wilkes forced her to go out to the mills and store. Or when she forced her to accompany her to pay calls on the doyennes of Atlanta's old guard. How those women must have squirmed to see Scarlett sitting once more in their parlors. How it must have hurt her to know that those pillars of Atlanta society were murmuring behind their fans that the baby she was suspected of carrying simply could not be his…

From that one foolish, impetuous, unforgettable night he had gotten her with child. Scarlett was one of those women who took pregnant if her husband smiled in her general direction. After all, she had given Charles Hamilton Wade after only a week of wedded bliss. She had to have conceived Ella within two months of marrying Frank. He had exercised some caution in the early days of their marriage and so it had been four and a half months before she learned that she was expecting Bonnie. Had she not banished him from her bed it wouldn't have been too much to suppose they would have welcomed another child within a year or so of Bonnie's birth.

He had taken her on the beach. Had used her to prove to himself that he had survived their near miss. In the cabin had been different. He had wanted to hold her, to make love to her until he was lost in her. And he had. He had made love to her twice that day. It had been a foolish impetuous thing to do. He had lost control. He had lost himself to the feelings she stirred in him, had stirred in him since that first afternoon at Twelve Oaks.

He rolled over and fumbled for a cigar, lighting it from the taper he'd left burning next to the bed. The second draw of pungent smoke was already settling in his lungs when a startling thought came to him. What if he'd left her with child once more? What if at this very instant she was somewhere, carrying his child?

A sick sort of horror swept through him raising gooseflesh on his exposed arms. It had been two months since she'd left Charleston. If she were pregnant she might already have some inkling of her condition. If not, she would shortly. He had been so close to ending his search. Now he knew he could not stop looking, not until he knew for sure, one way or the other whether he was going to be a father once more.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was a melancholy Rhett that stood on the balcony outside his room; the nearly unbroken spans of silence that hung over the Landing still unsettled him when he compared it to the constant drone of activity before the war. Any sound in this forgotten world was noticeable and from his bedroom he had heard splashing and then the distinctive sound of someone tying off on the remains of the old loading dock.

It was several minutes later when, from his vantage point, he could see Ross making his way up the path leading from the riverfront. There was a look of determination about him; so different from the usual hung over, hangdog look of wronged vanity Ross generally wore. It had been a long time since he'd seen his brother looking so determined.

He was still leaning on the parapet outside his bedroom windows when Ross opened the French doors off of his dressing room. A cigar dangled loosely from his fingers as he regarded Ross with an air of detached interest. He didn't particularly care why his brother had come, but it was still, as of yet, a mystery as to what would make him seek his older brother out at the place that had become his refugee from the outside world.

"Rhett," Ross began cautiously, "How are you?"

His brother seemed earnest in his concern, but the brothers Butler had never been close and the sentiment seemed to ring false. Grinding out the cigar in a cracked saucer, Rhett smiled sardonically. "Just fine. In fact, you've actually just caught me in the middle of something. I've been holding a masked ball and the Venetian breakfast is starting shortly, so, if you'll excuse me…"

Ross gave a small guff of laughter, putting Rhett slightly off guard. "And me without a costume, next time I'll come better prepared."

"You seem different," offered Rhett grudgingly, "Why?"

Ross smiled then, a smile Rhett knew he'd once seen on his own face, but he could not recall the circumstances that had triggered such a look of hope and complete joy. "I found out something while you were in Atlanta. It's something so surprising, something so wonderful that," he glanced downward, a look of shame briefly passed over his features before he looked up once more to met his brother's inquisitive gaze, "I've given up drinking. I haven't touched a drop in two weeks. I don't intend to start again, ever."

Rhett shook his head. "How like you to so constantly and consistently seek out new ways to disappointment me. Here and I've been drinking myself to death and I had figured that my brother would eventually keep me company and now you show up on my door step declaring that you've turned your back on the bottle. I can not depend on you for anything."

Was there a flash of pain in Ross's dark eyes? He couldn't be completely sure; they were near strangers, having been first advisories for their father's affections and then his holdings. He suddenly found himself regretting the foolishness of it all; the wasted opportunity to be brothers, to be friends through years that were long gone.

"Margaret is having a baby. Rhett, we gave up hope years ago and she lost the other babies we thought that it wasn't meant to be. I started drinking then. You weren't in Charleston, maybe you wouldn't think it to look at me, but to bury those babies broke my heart. Last week she told me that she hadn't been feeling well. When she didn't improve, I sent for the doctor. I simply thought it was something going around, but it wasn't.. Doctor Richter confirmed it." He flung his hands wide, trying to encompass his reluctant brother in his unrestrained joy, "I'm going to be a father and you'll be an uncle, one of the best there ever was."

Rhett arched a dark brow at his brother's display of unfettered enthusiasm. "If what I suspect is true, the same could be said of you," replied Rhett, before briefly detailing for his brother the realization he'd come to in the early hours of dawn.

"She couldn't possibly intend to traipse around while she's with child, if she really is having a baby, won't she come back here and tell you so?"

"With Scarlett, I can't say for sure. Any other woman who found herself in that sort of situation would rush back to her husband's side demanding that he care for her in her hour of need, whereas my Medea could easily decide to stay away to spite me even if it hurts her just as badly."

"Hell hath no fury…" quipped Ross lightly.

He shook his head. "I didn't just scorn her Ross."

"From what Rosemary told me, you more than had cause for how you've treated her."

"Cause…" he shrugged, "There are three sides to this story; my side, Scarlett's side, and the truth. If I squint, I can just about force myself to look past the first two sides to see the last. The truth is, I tormented her until she was nearly sick of me. I alternately ignored her or confronted and insulted her. I left her in Atlanta without letting her know that I .." He turned away from the question in his brother's eyes, "And after the accident, I left her a note telling her that I expected to find her gone when I returned to Charleston. She isn't going to just come back without some sort of incentive."

"You don't think a child is incentive enough?"

"I don't know. I only know that I am not going to sit idly by and hope that she is far more sensible than I generally credit her as being. I am going to find her and decide my course of action from there. If she is carrying my child, I'll bring her back here even if I have to carry her aboard a train to do it."

"And if you're worried for nothing and she isn't going to have a baby? What then?"

"Then I will stuff her into a sack, if need be, and bring her back here."

"Alright," Ross leaned back against the chimney wall, "Where haven't you looked?"

Rhett groaned in mock frustration. "Please, do not employ our late father's solution to all things that are seemingly without answers, that magical process that promises to offer solutions to all problems, critical thinking. I cannot take a round of 'where is the last place you had it' so early in the morning. Not without a drink, or several."

"If you are going to drink, I can't stop you, but you'll have to do it alone."

"Thank you Susan B. Anthony, am I keeping you? Don't you have a wagon to catch?"

Ross ignored Rhett's barb. "I'll get the next one. In the meantime, you went to Atlanta. Did you go out to that farm, I can't remember the name."

"Tara. I didn't personally, but I sent someone I could trust. She was there in February. She left again after only a day or two."

"So she isn't at either of the places she calls home. Where else might she go?"

"I don't know."

"Would she take an extended trip?"

"Possibly. I don't know where she would go."

"Does she have any old friends, maybe schoolmates?"

"No, not that I know of. Scarlett never got on very well with other women."

"Well, we've eliminated some possibilities, that's a start. I'm going downstairs. I'll wait in the library. Go and get dressed. We'll go back over and then up and down the wharf and see if we can't bribe some shipping lines for their passenger lists. Maybe we'll get lucky and find a lead."

"Don't you think I've already tried that? I already did that and it all amounted to nothing," lashed out Rhett, his voice heavy with frustration.

Ross managed to move past his brother's outburst to counter with, "Did you only look for her as Scarlett Butler?"

"Of course I di…" New appreciation for his brother dawned in Rhett's mind. "But I never looked under Kennedy, Hamilton, or O'Hara. She might have used any of them, or a combination." He raked a hand through his sleep tousled hair. "Ross, I know you and I haven't ever found a lot of common ground…"

"Spare us both Rhett. You and I are as different as night and day. We have been since I can recall. I only ever wanted father to approve of me and you worked as hard as you could to make him disapprove of you."

"That's all true, I can't deny any of it. I never could please father and I accepted it. I went my own way rather than dancing to the tune he called and he couldn't forgive that. You danced till your feet bled and it left you resenting father and hating me for not staying. So, in light of all of that, why are you here?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to tell you my news. I thought that it might be time to mend fences. I appreciated you getting my job back for me at the bank, now more than ever what with the new baby coming."

"Concern and gratitude. How admirable of you to come bearing such tidings. And…"

"And mother asked me to come out. She's worried about you. So is Rosemary. She is just brokenhearted to see you in such a state."

"And that's why you came? No other reasons that you'd care to disclose?" His brother squirmed under his expectant gaze and Rhett struggled to keep the knowing grin from his face. His brother had come with an ulterior motive, what it was, he didn't know. But whatever it was seemed to make Ross uncomfortable.

"I have a reason," he offered finally, "I came over because of Scarlett. Since I've stopped drinking I've realized how despicable my treatment of everyone around me has been. I want to make amends to the people I owe them tto. "

Suspicion flared in Rhett's eyes. "What did you do that you owe Scarlett anything?"

"Do you remember the day she arrived back in November, that was the day you got me my job back at the bank?"

"Of course I remember. It was pouring and I had to drive Sally and someone else home in Sally's carriage. I thought I'd end up with pneumonia."

"While you were gone, Margaret and I came to mother's house. I was…" he flinched, the memory was there, unclouded and it made him all the more ashamed. No matter what sort of woman Scarlett might or might not be, he hadn't known anything about her except that she was his brother's wife and he could use her to hurt Rhett.

"You were drunk," Rhett finished coldly. "I imagine you came over to put me in my place for trying to help you. I didn't get your job back for you. I did it for Margaret and mother. I didn't want to see them shamed when you dragged your wife into the gutter next to you."

"I know that now. I think I knew that then. That's why I was so angry. Because I knew you hadn't helped because you cared what happened to me. I think I wanted that, I wanted to know that you helped because we share blood."

"I liked you better when you were a drunk, you were a hell of a lot faster when it came to getting to the point, what did you do to my wife?"

"I kissed her."

There was no expression on Rhett's face and his eyes were flat and cold like chips of flawless onyx. But, there was rage below the surface, Ross could feel it radiating from his older brother, the heat of it felt as thought it were nearly enough to incinerate him where he stood. "Where were you when you assaulted my wife?"

"The parlor."

"Mother? Margaret? Where were they?"

"There as well. They were both there. Mother threw me out of the house and I don't quite remember where I went after."

"I don't give a damn if you went to hell and are only now returned on a short furlough. I want to know what else happened at the house."

"Nothing else happened. I introduced myself and then I kissed her."

"You said hello my name is Ross Butler and then forced yourself on my wife?"

"I called her a name," anticipating his brother's next question, Ross continued, "I told her something to the extent of I wasn't surprised my brother had married such a fancy piece of baggage. I don't think that's exactly it, but it's close."

"Ross, for a long time I've thought you could sink no lower in my eyes. If you had sat down to purposely think of a way to challenge that notion, you could not have done better. You should leave, now."

"Rhett…"

"Now. But before you go, let me say this. I am going to find Scarlett. In the end, she can't stay away from me, just as I couldn't stay away from her. It is because of our mother that I am not going to gut you from groin to sternum, but when I bring Scarlett home, if she ever even hints to me that she can't feel comfortable in a room that you also occupy I will remove you from it. Now, get out of my sight."

"I want to help you."

"And I want to kill you. If I can resist that urge, surely you can fight the guilt that has brought you here. Get out."


	8. Darkness

**For Carla, who needed something to read.**

Rhett found his brother sitting on the Landing's back steps, his chin in his hands as he idly watched the swans waddling across the path to the weed chocked lily pond. "What are you still doing here?"

"I told you that I wanted to help," replied Ross, coming to his feet.

"And I told you that it was a struggle to keep myself from killing you."

Ross met his brother's gaze and held it. "You need all the help you can get," he said candidly.

"Not from you." The two brothers, from a distance resembled each other a great deal. Both were tall and muscular, with dark hair and sharp, well defined features. They stood regarding each other; Ross's face was serene for the first time in a very long time while Rhett's was heavy with the effects of sleepless nights and alcohol.

Ross's jaw tightened and his control wavered. He wanted to help his brother; he wanted to feel as though he had a brother, but there was only so much that any one could do for Rhett if he didn't want help. Still, he felt he owed it to Rhett to make a final entreaty. "Rhett, between the two of us, we can cover more ground."

Those words drew a sneering grin. "If I need help, I'll buy it."

"You are such a stubborn jackass, do you know that?" exploded Ross, "If you don't want my help, I'm not going to force it on you, but you said you'd do anything to find her. Shouldn't that even include accepting help from me?"

Watching the struggle that ragged behind his brother's slightly bloated features, Ross prepared for Rhett to reject his offer once again. But, to his surprise, Rhett only rubbed his temple roughly before looking down toward the Ashley River. "Fine. If you want to help, you can start by giving me a ride back to the battery. After that though, you and I are splitting up. If you find out anything, let me know."

"It would be my pleasure," said Ross trying to suppress a grin.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

They had split up on reaching the docks. Ross had decided to question some of the porters at the train station to see if she had gone by train under a name other than Scarlett Butler. Rhett had given him a photograph of Scarlett with a sharp warning not to mislay it.

Starting at one end of the docks, Rhett worked his way from one end of the dock to the other. He had showed her picture to the clerks who made reservations for the various lines and no one could place her. Even the offer of a substantial reward for information leading to her did not jog a single memory.

By midday, he was able to admit defeat. No one on the docks remembered Scarlett and he knew that if she had boarded a ship leaving Charleston Harbor, someone would have remembered seeing her. Scarlett embarking on a trip would have captured anyone's notice. Scarlett was a striking woman and men had always taken notice of her. She traveled first class with a dozen pieces of baggage. Her clothes, without him nay saying her selections, would have been the height of fashion and extremely ostentatious.

Surely if she had left on any of the ships that docked in Charleston, someone would have noticed.

When he returned to his mother's house, he dismissed Maingo, instructing him that he wasn't to be disturbed. He sat in his study at his mother's house brooding. Rosemary was out with their mother so he could not question her and Ross had not yet returned so he didn't know if his brother had found anything to point him in the right direction.

Pouring himself a nearly overflowing glass of bourbon, he stared into the fireplace, watching the dancing flames consume the kindling Maingo had carefully piled around a large central log.

He was exhausted in both mind and body. He must have spoken to nearly three dozen people down at the harbor without a single lead. It was time to face the inevitable. Scarlett was gone and if she wanted to see him again, she would have to be the one to contact him.

Looking down at his hand, he knew what had to be done. The knowledge that he had to move on if he was to survive made it only slightly easier to remove his wedding band.


	9. Out of Time

**Dani, do you know what time it is?**

The man was seated, waiting patiently for Rhett to speak. If he were to hazard a guess, Rhett thought his unexpected visitor was somewhere in his mid thirties, around the same age as Scarlett, if not slightly older.

"Scarlett wanted to come, but I thought it best if we were to deal directly with one another."

"You're able to tell Scarlett what to do? What's your secret?"

The man did not even smile politely. "You've hurt her enough; I didn't particularly feel like picking up the pieces again. I asked her to stay where she was and she agreed, knowing it was for her own good."

"And where is that?"

"A place where you can't hurt her anymore."

"What is it that you want?" Rhett asked tiredly. He was an old man now. Losing Scarlett had made him old before his time.

Perhaps that wasn't the complete truth his weary mind countered. He was, in fact, old. But his age had never seemed to mark him as heavily as it did in the ensuing years that had passed since he'd removed his wedding ring.

His dark hair was silver now with only a few black streaks to testify to its former color. He was no longer the dashing blockade runner and charming rake of the war days. Now, he was just an old tired man without the energy to make another start. His story had nearly come to an end and the conclusion loomed like thunder clouds on the rapidly nearing horizon.

"I've come to ask you to let Scarlett go."

He wanted to hit the younger man. He wanted to pummel his smirking face with his fists until all that was left was raw, bleeding meat that could no longer be identified as a human face. "Exactly who are you to ask such a thing of me?"

"The man who does want her."

Of course he was. He had come, at last, just as Rhett always knew he would. He had always known that this day would finally come, that someone else would want Scarlett, that someone else might be able to love her as she should have been all along. And so he said the words that his mind had composed for the occasion on that afternoon, now six years in the past. Six years ago when Scarlett had been hovering between sleep and consciousness in his mother's house on the Battery.

"Took longer than I expected," he said brusquely.

His lips twisted into a wry smile. "Have you been expecting me?"

"You or someone like you, fortune hunter I assume?" Rhett asked pleasantly.

"No. I have all that I require to exist," he smiled, "comfortably.

"Apparently not if you've come here to ask me to give up my wife. She's very wealthy."

"Wealth means nothing to me. I wouldn't care if she were a queen or a servant. She isn't your wife, not in the true sense of the word. I doubt she ever truly was. She belongs with me."

Rhett's eyes became blank and hard. The man that sat across from him reminded him of someone he had hoped to never lay eyes on again.

Ashley Wilkes.

The similarities were straightforwardly apparent; the fair good looks, the shining blonde hair, the earnest and intelligent gaze. He felt vaguely disgusted. Scarlett, for all of her protestations about her love for him and her loss of feelings for Ashley, had sought out his mirror image.

"She belongs with you? Not unless you are a propionate of bigamy."

"You don't want her. You haven't for a long time, what does it matter now what happens to her?"

Pain. Stabbing in his chest. It would always matter what happened to her. Always. "It matters," he said succinctly.

"It shouldn't. If it did, you would have tried harder to find her."

The anger was there, roaring through his veins, pushing him toward blinding fury. He could feel his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to beat this man until he revealed Scarlett's location. He wanted to demand that he tell him how she was, where she was. He wanted to know if she ever spoke of their lives together.

But, he couldn't ask. His pride wouldn't allow it. It was too late now. Still, he would not allow the cocky bastard before him to leave with his mission complete. "You sound quite the expert on things between me and Scarlett, but really you don't know what you're talking about," taunted Rhett, his voice cold, confident.

"Don't I? When she was sick, you left her among strangers. You never tried to see her again. Don't try and pretend as though you care if she lives or dies... or remarries. Unless, can it be, you begrudge her the opportunity to start anew?"

He had to leave or Rhett would kill him; he knew that for a fact. "I'm afraid you've wasted the trip. I will not divorce her."

The man's eyes narrowed and an angry grimace drew the skin tight across his jaw.

"Let her go Mister Butler. You don't want her; you gave up on her years ago. It's time to say goodbye and let her go."

"What I want is no concern of yours, you have my answer and that answer is no."

Then, before his eyes, the skin on the man's face grew tighter and tighter, until it hugged his skull, tautly outlining the contours of his jaw and cheekbones. The piecing silver gaze began to burn brightly until burning embers occupied the skulls eye sockets. His clothes rotted, hanging loose until his skeletal form was sheathed in a heavy black tunic.

Rhett's frantic mind tried to make sense of what it was he was seeing, but there was no sense to be found.

The skeleton spoke, but his jaw did not move. The words echoed within Rhett's head. Grasping his head in his hands, he cradled it in a futile attempt to block out the voice. "You don't want her, I know you don't. You've left her to me twice before. You turned your back and left her to die. How you must hate her for living, if she had died, you could have been free. Let her go, be free of her, once and for all."

"No," he screamed. Struggling to right his slumped body, he flung out his arm. A half full glass of bourbon toppled off of the desk. The glass shattered, causing him to wince painfully.

"That must have been some dream," commented Ross from his seat on the sofa before the fire, surveying the broken glass littering the floor.

Rhett glanced at his hand. His wedding ring was there, just as it had been for the last seven years. The flesh surrounding it was slightly indented, reassuring him that its removal had been just one more detail in his nightmare.

"How long have you been standing there," he asked, shrugging off his sweat soaked jacket.

"Not very long, I just wanted to stop on my way home and bring you up to date."

"Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Not surprising, you can show yourself out."

Ross shook his head. "Get some sleep Rhett, in a bed. Not sitting here, drinking yourself blind."

"I don't need advice from you, especially concerning how not to drink. Now, on the other hand, if I ever need advice on how to become a raging alcoholic, never fear, you'll be the first person I seek out."

"You didn't have any luck either?"

"What makes you say that? Hell, I've got her forwarding address," he quipped sarcastically, "but instead of going to her, I've decided to sit here and drink myself into a stupor."

"I am not your enemy."

"You sure as hell are not my friend. Thank you for going to the depot. At least that's one more loose end sorted out. Nice to know you can handle something on your own."

He ignored his brother's harsh words, treating them as though they'd never been spoken. "She could have had someone buy the ticket for her."

"I doubt it."

He looked back down at the papers on his desk. Knowing his brother the way he did, Ross knew that was a sign of dismissal. He left without another word, closing the door gently behind him.

**A/N It is in fact Peanut Butter Jelly time.**

**12-17-09 cp**


	10. Beyond the pale

Ross hung his hat and coat on the hook next to the kitchen door. Margaret glanced up from the piecrust she was rolling out and smiled tentatively. Things were finally improving for the first time since the early days of their marriage. Things weren't perfect, but they were steadily improving.

She was a shy and self-contained woman. After years of living in constant dread of times when caresses could easily be kicks, she wasn't entirely at ease in Ross's presence, but she loved him deeply and knew that he was going to be a wonderful father once the baby came. The baby that she was expecting had finally done what she had never been able to do, stop his constant abuse of alcohol.

She dusted her hands off on the apron she was wearing over her wine colored skirts. Ross brushed a light kiss on her brow and her smile deepened, bringing out the small dimple in her cheek. "Did you see Rhett?"

"I did."

"Was he…" She looked down at the piecrust, unable to say the word.

"Drunk? No. He had just woken up when I got there. He looks terrible."

"He hasn't been sleeping, Eleanor told me that sometimes he never leaves his study, he just stays there all night reading reports from the investigators he hired."

"I told him what happened the night Scarlett arrived."

She immediately put her arms around his waist, forgetting her floury hands. "Oh Ross, that couldn't have been easy, I know it's been on your mind for some time, do you feel any better?"

"I feel more ashamed than anything else. I admitted it to Rhett, but I still owe Scarlett an apology when she returns…if she returns."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, dismayed. "Ross, I got flour on you, I am so sorry, it was an accident, I wasn't even thinking and I didn't mean it, please, I didn't mean to," she stammered nervously, backing away from him.

"Margaret," he began, stealing a peeled and cored apple from a large stoneware bowl on the table in an attempt to put her at ease, "it's alright, it will come out.."

She nodded. His smile was infectious and she returned it gladly. "Don't spoil your appetite, Trina is making a roast chicken and I'm making an apple crumble."

"It smells wonderful in here," he put the apple down on a cloth on the table, "I wish I'd been a better husband to you Margaret."

"You're a wonderful husband Ross and I know that you…" she flushed lightly, unused to discussions of a serious nature with Ross. "I know that you love me."

"I do."

"Did Rhett accept your offer?"

"Eventually. It took some convincing, but then again, who could blame him? I don't know that I'd want my help in this instance."

"You were gone so long that I thought he accepted your help. Did you find anything?"

"Not a trace. I must have spoken to everyone at the depot; porters, linemen, anyone that might have seen her. Scarlett's hard to miss. At least, that's what I thought this morning. Now, I'm not so sure."

The creaking of the kitchen door silenced them both for a moment. Seeing that it was Trina, they resumed their conversation. If it had been Annie, the conversation would have been at an end but it wasn't. Annie was a sharp eared, light skinned girl that had worked for a friend of Margaret's but she had been let go because of her inclinations toward gossip. Finances had been strained for so long that if they were to have any help at all, Ross and Margaret had to learn to overlook Annie's various flaws.

Trina had worked for Eleanor Butler for a little over a year when Scarlett had left, but after a month of Rhett being constantly drunk, the girl had told Miss Eleanor that she had to leave because Mister Rhett frightened her and she didn't want to stay in the same house. She was a simple girl and Rhett's kind of drunkenness wasn't simple.

She could have understood if he was loud and rude or even crass and slovenly. But his cold, mocking manners and abrupt departures and arrivals unnerved her. She had begun to fear him after he had called the servants into his office one by one to question them about Scarlett and her departure. She had been visiting a sick aunt and the simple, often addlebrained upstairs maid escaped Rhett's notice.

Eleanor, hating to see a reliable girl go without employment, had referred her to Margaret who had been looking for a servant who would do a little bit of everything. While Ross was also a heavy drinker, Trina hadn't minded nearly as much because he had acted in the typical way most men who drank too much did. He yelled, or broke things, or sometimes he cried about what a failure he was before failing asleep in his favorite chair next to the parlor fire.

None of that behavior was frightening, just embarrassing.

The girl was an excellent cook and Ross had promised her that when things improved he would hire on another maid to do the housework and leave her to the kitchen. She had nodded and told him she didn't care in particular. He had taken that to mean that she would work at whatever task she was given and so he'd left it at that.

In front of Trina, Ross and Margaret were sometimes less than cautious in their discussions. They both regarded her as hardworking, but intrinsically simple. At different times since her arrival, they had each made unguarded comments only to look up sharply to see if they had enticed Trina into eavesdropping. Never did she give any outward sign that she was in the least bit interested in the gossip of her white employers and after her first two months, both Margaret and Ross had fallen into the habit of speaking as though she wasn't in the room.

"There was no sign of Scarlett. I dreaded going to tell Rhett. He didn't seem surprised; he told me that he didn't expect me to find anything. I was so sure that I would find some trace of her at the depot and I didn't find a thing. I honestly think that if he just knew where she was, he would be able to cope with her being gone so long. I don't understand how she could leave without telling him where she was going."

"How com' Mista' Rhe' don ask Miz Rosemary where Miz Scar'lett at?"

"I'm sorry?" Asked Ross, suppressing a wave of shock. Trina almost never voluntarily spoke; usually she had to be cajoled into conversation. To hear her speak without being spoken to was enough of a shock, but to realize that she had been listening to their conversation and had no doubt been listening to them all along was appalling.

"Miz Rosemary tauked to Miz Scar'lett 'fore she lef fo' a rel long time. Don she know where Miz Scar'lett went?"

Ross and Margaret exchanged a swift look of surprise. Rhett and Ross had not been on speaking terms in some time so Ross had been unaware that his sister had spoken to Scarlett before her departure. He had been under the impression that she'd left, speaking to no one. "She says she doesn't know, perhaps Scarlett didn't tell her."

"Oh," said Trina, before she gently prodded the roasting chicken with a meat fork. Ross waited until she had finished before speaking to her again. Trina was nearly to the kitchen door when he spoke.

"Did you happen to hear what they said; Miss Rosemary and Miss Scarlett, I mean?" He asked casually.

She looked between Margaret and Ross, her eyes widened nervously. "No suh, I don' normally lisen ta white folk, but I hear Miz Scar'lett's name an' I lisen a lil' cause I like her. She give me a dolla when she lef, for takin care of her so good when she wuz hea."

"That was kind of her," said Margaret.

"Yes 'am. Miz Margaret."

"Was she upset when she left," asked Margaret. "We were wondering why she left so hastly."

"Maybe she wuz in a hurry 'cause of Miz Robillard and Missus Carey wuz waitin' in a carriage for her."

"Scarlett left with her Aunts? You're sure?"

"Yes suh."

"Margaret, I am going to take Trina over to my mother's, could you ask Annie to keep an eye on supper?"

She nodded quickly. "Just go, I'll worry about things here."

Trina's eyes were wide and she shook her head frantically. "Mistuh Ross, I's afraid of Cap'n Butler. Do I hafta go?"

"Trina, you do. It's very important that we go and speak with Captain Butler. You must tell him anything you can remember about Miss Scarlett leaving. It's your Christian duty to help him; Miss Margaret's been reading to you and Annie from the Bible at night, hasn't she?"

"Yes suh."

"And you know that we must reach out with charity to help those in need. Captain Butler is in need of answers and so we must do the right thing and help him. Besides, what if Miss Scarlett is in some sort of trouble? You said you like her, would you want to see her in need?"

"No suh," said Trina.

"Good. Then it's settled, run and get a wrap and we'll go and see Captain Butler."

The girl left the kitchen to do as she was bidden.

"Ross, how is it that Rhett never spoke with her? Your mother told me that Rhett browbeat all of the house hold looking for clues to Scarlett's whereabouts."

"She's been here since just shortly after Scarlett's disappearance, no doubt he simply missed her when he was making up a list of servants to speak with."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if this was the lead he's been looking for?"

"It would."

"And even more wonderful if you were the one to find a lead," commented Margaret softly.

"It couldn't hurt the present situation between us."

Rhett was still at his desk, the air in the room was heavy and scented with the spilled liquor and the odor of numerous cigars.

"Rhett?"

His brother stood in the door with a young black girl who was nervously twisting her apron between her worn, calloused hands.

He gestured for them to come in and, with some gentle urging, Trina followed Ross into the study. "What do you want Ross."

"This is Trina. Trina used to work for mother Rhett, she saw to Scarlett and her things while she was here."

The girl held clutched her apron tighter still; her hands shook slightly, betraying how anxious she was to be in the presence of the often drunk and angry son of former mild tempered employer.

"I remember you now, you did a very good job looking after Scarlett. I know she must have been grateful to be so well looked after," he said, trying to put her at ease.

The girl nodded, shuffling her feet as she waited anxiously for Rhett to finish with her so she could be dismissed.

"Did you see her before she left?"

"Yes, suh," she said quietly after looking at Ross who smiled encouragingly.

"You did?" He had lied when he said he remembered the girl, he had no idea that she had once worked for his mother. He had also forgotten that even if Scarlett had Pansy, his mother's servants would have been the ones to make up her bed and straighten her room while Penny tended to Scarlett's more personal needs. "Did you speak to her at all before she went downstairs?"

"No suh."

"I see. Ross I don't know what this was meant to accomplish, you and your friend may leave."

"Cap'n Butla?"

He was surprised to hear the girl's voice again considering the reluctance she displayed at being in his presence. "Yes?"

"I didn' spek to Miz Scarlett upstais, I spoke to her when she wuz lookin fore Miz Eleanor. She wanted to spek to her, but she weren' here. So she aske who wuz here an' I tole her, Miz Rosemary wuz."

"I know, she saw Rosemary as she was leaving the house."

"Miz Rosemary and her wuz in the parlor when they wuz talkin'. Miz Scarlett wuz upset that she hada talk to Miz Rosemary insteda Miz Eleanor. But I guess she didn' know where to leave a note 'cept with Miz Rosemary."

Ross's eyes met Rhett's. Ross shook his head at the inquiring look in Rhett's eyes. The mention of a note was new to him as well. " Miss Scarlett had a note? You saw it?"

"No suh."

"Which is it?" he asked, his voice becoming anxious. "Did you see a letter in my wife's hand?"

"No suh, I seen two of dem."

Rhett's breath caught in his chest. It was, in a way, like staring a word puzzle like the kind his mother had been fond of when he was a child. If you stared at the jumble of letters long enough, words or phrases would begin to emerge. All along he had known that he had been overlooking something, something monumental.

His instincts had known all along, only he hadn't wanted to pay them heed. Rosemary had been the last person to speak with Scarlett before she left. Rosemary had told him they'd barely exchanged a word. Something about that had not rung true. When he had asked Rosemary questions about Scarlett's leave taking, she had been apprehensive and annoyed that he continued to ask questions. All because she had taken Scarlett's notes and then either concealed or disposed of them.

He should have seen what was there, in front of his face. Scarlett, no matter how angry she might have been, would have written his mother a note to say thank you. It was one of the things that her mother had taught her that stuck. According to Ellen O'Hara, by way of Scarlett, a lady wrote notes for everything. To show gratitude, to express sympathy, and to tell one's host or hostess where she could next be found, if needed. Scarlett had never, in all the time he'd known her, had never not sent a note at the appropriate time. When Bonnie was born, she had stayed home from the mill for two days writing out thank you notes for the gifts they'd received.

She always left notes. Throughout the season, he had found little notes on his desk during her stay whenever she had gone somewhere.

She had given her letters to Rosemary, never considering for a minute that his sister wouldn't give them to their intended recipients. He had a good idea of what his mother's said, something about how much Scarlett had enjoyed her stay. It was his note that was a mystery, one that he was determined to solve as soon as he could locate his sister. He had wanted to believe his sister, it had nearly proved to be his undoing.

"Trina, thank you. You may go."

The girl nearly flew from the room, eager to make her escape. He could not spare her another thought; all thoughts were focused on his sister. His sister who had listen to him as he had asked about Scarlett and whether she had left word as to her next destination and then coolly lied to him. His sister who had watched him as he drank more and more and spent all of his time over at the Landing in an attempt to escape his longing for Scarlett. His sister who had lied to him every time she wished him luck in his search.

He yelled for Maingo, and when he hurried into the study, Rhett spoke immediately, not allowing his manservant the chance to speak, he demanded, "Where is my sister?"

"With Miss Eleanor. They are at Miss Robillard's and Mrs. Carey's at home."

"I'm going out, if they come back before I do, not one word of what you might have heard in here, do you understand me?"

Rhett grabbed his suit coat and struggled into it as he bolted through his study door.

Ross managed to catch up with him at the front gate. It was a struggle to keep up with him as he made his way down the street to Scarlett's aunt's house.

"I'm sure she had a reason for what she did," said Ross, his voice husky as he struggled to match his brother's powerful stride.

"Being a backstabbing bitch isn't a reason Ross, it's a state of being."


	11. Regrets

**For those of your with myspace, I am Cornorama, I just added an album to my pictures from my visit to Atlanta. Brandy and I went to two of the GWTW museums and some of the pictures are posted, enjoy.**

As they stood waiting for someone to answer the door, Rhett reached his hand toward the knob. Ross caught his wrist and yanked it back. "You can't just burst into the house. Eulaine and Pauline are the last people to have seen Scarlett, don't alienate them."

Rhett shook off his brother's hand. "Mind your own business, I didn't ask you to come along."

"That's right, you didn't. But regardless, I am here, so listen to me, go softly. Miss Eulaine and Miss Pauline are two of the flutteriest women I've ever met. Try not to get them worked up before you find out what you need to know. They are also mother's oldest friends, she is going to be hurt as it is when she finds out what Rosemary's done, don't add more fuel to the fire by…"

"Thank you for the sage advice," said Rhett before pounding on the door again. "I'm giving it until the count of three and then I'm breaking the damn thing down."

This frenzied, antagonistic man was a stranger to Ross. He had never seen his brother so obsessed before, so ready to rush into a situation without stopping to consider the wisdom of his every move. That wasn't to say that he found Rhett to be overly cautious. "What's happened to the fabled Butler self control?"

"Scarlett O'Hara happened."

A heavyset black woman finally responded to Rhett's hammering on the door. She regarded Rhett with vague curiosity. She knew the relations between her employer's niece and the tired looking man standing on the doorstep were strained at best. Miss Pauline had told Miss Eulaine that she thought it quite odd that there niece came and went as she pleased and without her husband. "Mista Ross, Cap'in Butler, won't you…."

Rhett shoved past her, making his way toward the sound of his mother's voice.

"You must forgive my brother," apologized Ross with a crooked smile. "He's in a terrible hurry."

Jeniva glowered. "M'hm," she muttered closing the door with a little more force then was required.

By the time Ross reached the parlor doors, Rhett had already made his presence known. If the Robillard sisters thought there was anything strange about the previously estranged brothers arriving on their doorstep at the same time, obviously in some sort of accord, they never gave any sign. "Captain Butler, what an unexpected pleasure," seeing Ross hovering just behind his brother, her smile widened, "and Ross, you too." With a graceful gesture that encompassed them both, she gestured for them to come into the room. "How lovely of you to come and fetch your mother and sister home."

"Where is Scarlett," Rhett asked without preamble.

Pauline cocked her head, immediately scenting scandal. "I knew it, I just knew it. Eulaine, I told you that she had no right to stay behind," crowed Pauline. "She said she would send you a telegram telling you about her change in plans, but she didn't, did she? What a vexing, willful thing she is."

The relief was evident in his face. "She's in Savannah?" asked Rhett. The tension drained from his body and his shoulders slumped slightly as he allowed himself a moment to savor the news. She was not off somewhere out of reach. She was not halfway around the world, getting into who knew what sort of trouble. She was less than a hundred miles away. If he left in the morning on the first train, he would be there by the afternoon.

"Thank god," muttered Ross, under his breath. He tried to smile nonchalantly. "You're sure that's where she is?"

"Of course that's where she is," replied Eulaine, daring to look at her now equally confused sister. "We all went for father's birthday in February, just after that terrible thing that happened to Scarlett and you, Captain Butler, after the ball. If we had known about Scarlett's accident, we wouldn't have allowed her to come, but we only found out after the fact. Pauline and I went to visit our cousins and then we returned two days ago. Scarlett decided to remain behind at father's request. Surely you knew that at the very least, that she went with us to Savannah?"

Eleanor smiled brightly as she reached out and squeezed Rosemary's hand. "You have no idea how worried we all were, there must have been some sort of miscommunication. We weren't sure where Scarlett had gone and…"

Some of the euphoria he felt at finally having located Scarlett faded as Rhett turned his attention toward a young woman who looked as though she was trying desperately to turn chameleon. "Yes," there was no discernable emotion in his voice and Rosemary flinched at the way his eyes held nothing but a cold sort of scrutiny, "we had no idea where she'd gone, isn't that right Rosemary?"

She swallowed spasmodically as both of her brothers regarded her with two completely different expressions. Ross's gaze was sad but tinged with sympathy while Rhett looked as though he was only seconds away from strangling her. "None. You must be happy Rhett."

Some warmth spilled into his expression and she knew it was for Scarlett; everything in Rhett's life over the last decade had been for her. If she were guilty of some horrendous crime against him, Rhett would forgive her. Surely, he might find it in his heart to forgive his own blood if he could continually love his trashy wife, she thought frantically.

"I am very happy. But, caring for me as you do, you must be happy as well?" asked Rhett coldly.

"Yes. I'm happy for you" she managed to whisper around the lump in her throat. She had never counted on Rhett's single mindedness when it came to Scarlett. She had been a fool to steal the notes and to burn them. He was going to find out about them soon enough, and when he did, he would want to see them. She could not even make amends by offering to return them to him. At least he didn't know that she knew, not yet. But it would only be a matter of time.

He smiled benignly. For one lone moment time stood still and she thought that things might be all right in the end. That he remembered that they were blood and that alone should make the difference, but then, his smile faded. "Tell me something, you're a young woman Rosemary, nearly Scarlett's age. What sort of reception do you think I can expect when I reach Savannah? After all, I've left Scarlett without a word for the last three months. But then, she can hardly hold that against me since she didn't leave word to let me know where she would be."

Rosemary was, in many ways, a shrewd and intuitive young woman. She could cut to the heart of a matter after subjecting it to unsympathetic scrutiny. She was a voracious reader who devoured books at the rate of nearly a dozen a month and took from each volume some small life lesson or fact. But these gifts of scholarship and perception did not enable her to better understand a complicated man such as Rhett.

She had known Rhett Butler the caring older brother. She had known Rhett as the kind, adoring father to Bonnie and the thwarted lover to Scarlett O'Hara, but this cold, vaguely menacing man that regarded her with dark eyes so like her own was a stranger. His voice was laced with a smoldering anger that threatened to burst into flames if ignited by a wrong word. "You know, don't you?" she offered softly.

"What could I possibly know Rosemary? After all, if nothing else, you've proven to me that I don't know Scarlett as well as I thought. I believed that she would leave without a word to anyone even though everything I knew about her previously was to the contrary. I assumed that she would allow both myself and mother to worry about her without giving us a moment's consideration. I assumed that I could believe my sister when she told me that Scarlett had departed without so much as backward glance. It's true what they say…when you assume…" his lips compressed into a thin line, he regarded her for a moment.

She did not quell under his gaze even though her heart pounded in her chest. "I didn't set out to hurt you, I…"

"At least do me the curtsey of being honest now. I can guess what mother's said, what about the one she left for me? What did it say?"

She shook her head frantically, "I know it's hard to believe, but I thought it was…"

"What did it say," he asked firmly, "paraphrase it if you can't remember it verbatim. I just want to know the general jist of it, I can read it later, but I want to know if she's been waiting for me."

"You can't read it, I burned it."

His eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw tightened, but those were the only visible signs that hinted at the rage building within him. "When?"

"What does that matter?"

"It matters."

"The afternoon you came home to find her gone. As soon as you went upstairs."

His blank masked features cracked and she could see the hurt that was there. The pain at being betrayed by her was more than she could fathom and suddenly she knew regret. It came swiftly. The pain was a sharp dagger that cut to the bone. Even if she had sent him after Scarlett and she'd broken his heart yet again, he would not have returned to them in as much pain as he was in, and indeed, had been in since the end of February.

"Rhett, what's going on?" implored Eleanor.

"In a minute mother, what did the note say?"

"She loves you. She wanted you to know that she wouldn't stay here because she thought she was hurting you."

He wanted that note, hearing Scarlett's words second hand barely whetted his appetite for contact with her. It didn't matter, he tried to tell himself, by tomorrow, he would be with her and then he could ask her, face to face, to tell him what she'd written.

"Would one of you tell me what's going on, now, please," demanded Eleanor, her voice soft but stern.

Trying to keep the hatred he felt for his sister out of his voice while addressing his mother tore at Rhett, but he managed as best he could. If his voice shook a little with ill concealed rage, there was only so much he could do to hold back the torrent of violence that threatened to spill forth. "Ask your daughter. Ask her what she knew about Scarlett and her whereabouts What she really knew, not just the lies she told me over the last three months."

Her soft blue eyes glistened with unshed tears as she beg her daughter for an accounting of her misdeeds. "Tell him Rosemary that this is all a misunderstanding," she pleaded. "You told us she didn't."

"I lied."

"Why? Rhett was nearly…" she grimaced and tried again to find the right words to let her daughter know just how serious her offence really was. "I was so worried. About your brother, but also about Scarlett."

"I only wanted what was best for Rhett." She came to her feet to face her brother, her chin proudly thrust forward. "I did what I did to help, not hurt you."

"I asked you if you could remember anything that might help me find Scarlett, and you told me no. I asked repeatedly, and you told me no. You lied to me, Rosemary; I think you at least owe me an answer, why would you watch me suffer like you did and never say a word? It was within your power this whole time. With just a few words, you could have alleviated all of my worry and suffering. All you needed to do was just tell me where she was and I would have been free of the constant state of agony I've been in. Why did you take the notes?"

"I wanted to help you. You've been obsessed with her and…"

"She's my wife, I'm not obsessed with her, I'm in love with her."

"Well then, loving her was killing you, I saw how you looked when you came back from Colombia."

"I looked that way because I had gone upstairs to find her, to tell her I wanted her still and she was gone. Not knowing where she was? That nearly killed me. I've barely slept or eaten since she's left. You've watched me destroy myself Rosemary and you could not find the courage to even hint at what you'd done."

"I'm sorry. But I only…"

"Not good enough."

She reached out her hand to catch his sleeve but he jerked back. "Don't," he said, holding up his hands to ward her off. "Don't touch me. I've never struck a woman before, but I might now. I can't even honestly say I might regret it after the fact."

"Rhett, please…"

"No."

She turned to her mother, her eyes imploring her to intervene. "I was doing what I thought was best."

Eleanor shook her hand. "How could you do this Rosemary? Your brother's been frantic with worry. He's been hurting so much and you've just kept silent and allowed him to hurt."

The Robillard sisters had been all but forgotten during the altercation between brother and sister. Pauline interrupted the Butler family drama that was continuing to unfold in her parlor by repeatedly clearing her throat. "Captain Butler, do you mean to tell me that you've been looking for Scarlett all this time? That you've been worrying about her?"

"Yes."

"What a pretty mess," mused Pauline.

"She's fine though," Eulaine reassured him, "she was feeling a little under the weather when we arrived and then again when we were leaving, but otherwise, she seemed perfectly well. She's been consorting with some of her Irish relations and pursing an archbishop for something having to do with Tara. Typical Scarlett, always busy."

He glared at his sister; he'd asked if Scarlett had been well when she left. If he found out that she'd been lying ill, thinking that he didn't care enough to come and bring her home, he'd strangle his sister. It occurred to him as a second thought that her being ill could be indicative of another sort of illness, the kind that would result in a child. "She was sick?" he asked carefully, probing for further details.

"No, no. Just a little worn down. I think she was just doing too much. She made a trip out to Tara the day after father's birthday and when she came back again, she just seemed tired."

"She's with your father now?"

"Yes." Pauline pursed her lips. "It was strange, she went in and spoke to father one evening and the next we knew, he invited her to stay. Very unlike father, not to mention Scarlett doesn't really care for him."

"Will you give me the address and directions from the station in Savannah."

"Of course."

"Mother, I'll be leaving first thing in the morning."

Tugging on his sleeve, Rosemary tried one last time to make him see reason. "Rhett, I know you're angry, but still…"

Ripping his arm back, he turned to her and lashed out finally, venom in every one of his words, he was beyond caring that his mother or Scarlett's aunts were present. "Not another word out of your lying mouth or I will shut it for you. I never want to hear your voice again. You are nothing to me. If you had burned the note and kept silent for a few days, I could accept that. Perhaps even a week, but three months? You've stood by silently and watched me slowly drink myself to death for the last three months."

Eulaine gasped quietly at such a candid admission, but she still managed to have the presence of mind to take Eleanor's trembling hand and squeeze it lightly.

"I thought you'd get over her in time. I was going to tell you, but you seemed to be coming to terms with her being…"

"You did not think I was going to get over her. You thought you'd gotten away with it for so long that you were in the clear. Mother," he came to his mother's side and, kneeling by her feet, he took one of her hands in his. "I can't ask you to chose between your children, but I can tell you that when I come back to Charleston, I won't be staying at the house on the Battery so long as your daughter is also there."

She laid her hand on Rhett's shoulder. "I know you are angry, but in time…"

"In time, I'll come to the same conclusion that I reached this afternoon. Your daughter is a spineless backstabber who would rather cower and keep secrets than come forth with the truth. I won't stay under the same roof with her."

Pauline went to the small secretary in the corner and after jotting out some lines on a scrap of paper, she handed it to Rhett. "When you reach Savannah, take a cab to father's. It's much too far to walk."

He bowed over her hand, kissing it softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, give Scarlett our love."

Ross had already left and Rhett quickly bowed to Eulaine and kissed his mother on the cheek before leaving. He did not stop to acknowledge Rosemary. In his eyes, he no longer had a sister.


	12. Doubts

****

Sitting at the vanity table in her bedroom at Grandfather Robillard's house in Savannah, Scarlett O'Hara Butler contemplated the paths that were currently open to her. Not, she thought with a frown as she pinned a stay lock of hair into place, that there were many.

She could not afford to stay in Savannah much longer. If she did, people would learn of the child she was expecting. Once that happened, it was only a matter of time till the truth of her present condition reached Rhett. The sand was slowly rushing into the bottom of the proverbial hourglass.

Absently, she rested her hand on her stomach, stroking it softly. At nearly three months, she was not yet showing, but that could change quickly. To the naked eye, there was no visible sign of her pregnancy, but she had never been one to show gradually. From her previous experiences, the truth of her situation would become apparent in another two months. Before then, one way or another, she would have to make a choice.

People being the vicious, judgment creatures they were, would be eager to blacken her name and openly speculate on the paternity of her unborn child. If she wanted to stay in Georgia, she would have to form a united front with Rhett. Even then, people might still doubt them. It was possible that they might believe Rhett was only accepting her child to preserve his family's name.

The brush snagged on a knot and she winced at the brief pain. Would Rhett immediately accept their child without questioning her fidelity? Surely he knew her well enough to know that she would never go so far as to allow another man into her bed. Except, he had slung that accusation at her once before. Whether he meant it or believed it possible of her was not the point. The fact that he could even say such a thing had been enough to push her into a boiling rage.

The disgusting query he asked of her when she told him the last time she was carrying his child still haunted her. "Whose the happy father," he had asked as though it were a perfectly natural question for a husband to ask of his wife. The look in his eyes had been so cold, so mocking and dismissive that she had been unable to contain her anger, not that she'd ever been good at swallowing anger when prodded and baited by Rhett.

That baby had seemed like a blessing. She waited so eagerly for him to return, to tell him that they were going to have another baby. When she told him about Bonnie, she ruined that moment between them by suggesting that something could be done about the situation. Three years later, when she found out from Doctor Meade about the baby, she tried to decide just how to tell him. She had been so happy, so ready to try and build a real marriage with him, but he was the one to destroy the joy the other baby could have brought them. Later, he said that he regretted what happened. But what was regret worth; it didn't bring back what they lost?

Had they ever told each other anything that wasn't surrounded in a storm of misunderstandings and deceit?

She couldn't bear to go through life as they once had, living constantly in the midst of storm after storm. His comings and goings without any regard for her feelings, the way he played on her feelings of inadequacy when it came to motherhood, the way neither of them could just say what they felt; to go back to all of that would be the death of her. To live without him though, to look at his child and know that he would want to be with them… that he would be with them…if he knew there was a child.

Catching another tangle, she ripped the comb furiously through, bringing tears to her eyes. Hurling her comb to the floor, she stood and begun to pace like a woman possessed. If he knew there was a child, he would come. It was as simple as that. But she didn't want him to come just because of that. If only there was a way to bring him to her without revealing her condition.

Racking her brain, she searched for something she could say or do to bring him to Savannah, but nothing presented itself. There were simply no words that would bring him if he hadn't come to her by now. When she first arrived, she believed that he would arrive soon after. Now she saw the odds were slim in favor of a reunion. If he wanted her, nothing would have kept him from her side. His long absence preceded by his desertion of her while she was still unconscious at his mother's house told her all she needed to know about how he felt. He didn't want her.

He wasn't going to come just for her. Twisting her wedding ring back and forth, she swallowed back tears. She thought he would come. She had been certain, so damned certain that in spite of everything, he still wanted her. The note she'd left, pouring out her heart would have brought him to her, if he wanted her. It hadn't, so he didn't. Still, there was a tiny spark of hope in her breast that continually reminded her of the way he'd held her on the beach, the way his lips caressed her body and the words he'd murmured in her ear. He told her that he loved her. Repeatedly, he had poured out his feelings for her, the depth of his feelings for her and how losing her would destroy him.

Pretty words, that's all they were. He didn't seem to care that she had left Charleston. She wanted to steel herself against loving him; dwelling on his confessions on the beach seemed a way to do that. If she could bring herself to find him a liar about his feelings towards her, she could abandon hope. Hope held out though and she could not bring herself to believe it was all just empty words and meaningless gestures. That would reduce her baby, her miracle to nothing more than an accident.

If she wrote him, telling him plainly that they were expecting, he would come. She knew he would. Even if he believed her to be lying about being with child, he would not dismiss her claims out of hand. He would come to investigate because he could not do otherwise. Not when a child of his was concerned would he leave things to chance.

Settling herself back on the vanity bench, she opened the left hand drawer of the ornate dressing table. From under handkerchiefs and general clutter she removed the small Ambrotype that had been taken on their honeymoon trip. "Why do you have to be so stubborn," she challenged his smug, glass-encased likeness angrily. "If you could have just admitted how you feel, I wouldn't be sitting here wondering how to tell you about the baby."

Their child's entire future relied on Rhett not making things difficult and on his being reachable. If he had disappeared somewhere, it might take months to find him and tell him.

It was then a thought, a terrible, but enticing thought struck her.

Bringing her eyes upward, she met her own fevered gaze in the mirror's reflection, "If I tell him at all," she whispered.

Staring at the photograph, her mind raced. Wouldn't that fix him, the high and mighty Rhett Kinnicutt Butler of Dunmore Landing? She could take herself and her baby off to some far-flung locale and then raise it all alone, without any interference from Rhett. If he ever found out, he would strangle her with his bare hands. But, she reasoned, that would be terribly hypocritical of him. It was, after all, no worse than what he planned to do to her in regards to Bonnie.

Running away had its appeal. She even had a destination. She could go with Colum to Ireland. Wouldn't that be an adventure, to go and live among pa's people? To raise her child Irish, proud of its heritage and devoted to the land and the strength that came from working it?

That's right, she taunted her reflection silently, and while you're there, you can deck yourself out in striped stockings and peasant blouses. If you go native, you can even do without stays. She smirked lightly, abroad was definitely out, it was ridiculous to imagine herself living anywhere so far away from Tara.

If she were away from Tara for too long, heaven above knew what Sue would try to do. She already had done something so horrendous that Scarlett still had't quite recovered from the shock of it.

Chipping away, a little at a time, Sue managed to completely transfer Ella's affections from Scarlett to herself. Now, Ella followed her aunt around like a lovesick puppy. Everything Sue said these days was practically gospel if you heard Ella tell it. She tried to make inroads with Ella during her visit to Tara but once she had told the child that Rhett would not be waiting for them in Savannah, she'd wanted no part of traveling with her mother.

_Though she was never a devoted mother, she did love her children as best she could. With a queer pang in her heart that she finally identified as regret, she told Ella that for the time being she could remain at Tara. With her child, she was as kind as she could manage, but once their conversation ended, she let her anger and hurt roar to the surface. Finding Sue in their mother's old office, she lashed out, accusing her of subverting her child's feelings. When she finished pouring out her outrage, her sister countered smugly with, "You took her father from me, so I took his daughter from you."_

_Drawing back her hand, Scarlett struck her sister, hard enough to split her lip. For the first time in their lives, Sue didn't react. She just lifted her handkerchief to her lip and gently blotted at the thin trickle of blood that oozed from where the blow had split her lip. "If I told Ella you did this to me, she'd hate you," crowed Sue triumphantly._

"_My daughter loves me," Scarlett cried, her chest heaving as though she'd run a mile._

_Sue's eyes glittered maliciously. "Your daughter doesn't care about you. Nor does Wade. Not a bit. All you are is the woman who gave birth to them. I'm the one Ella loves. Go upstairs, right now. Go and ask her to come with you." _

_Sue hadn't known that she already tried to entice her children into traveling with her. For that small miracle, she was grateful. Had Sue known, she might have felt the need to make comment and then Scarlett knew she could not have held herself back from further violence._

_Sue was right, at least partially. Neither Wade nor Ella wanted to leave with her. Wade, in typical Hamilton fashion, had been kind, telling her that he had responsibilities at Tara. When she reminded him about his dreams to be a lawyer, he shrugged. "Harvard isn't going anywhere. I need to stay here and help Uncle Will. In a few years, then I'll decide what I want to do about school."_

"_I'm your mother, I love you Wade. I do."_

_He sat down, perched on the edge of his chair as though ready for flight. "I know that you must. You and I, we're just different. I think I must be like my father, at least, that's what Aunt Melly told me, that I was like him."_

"_You are. Very much so."_

"_But you didn't love him, or Uncle Frank." His tone wasn't accusatory, just honest._

"_Did Sue say that, I'll…"_

"_No. But it isn't hard to see that you didn't love my father very much. You never spoke of him and I remember Uncle Frank, a little. I think that you were fond of him, but you didn't love him."_

_She came to her feet quickly, unable to meet his steady gaze a moment longer. "This isn't appropriate. You're just a child, I don't expect you to understand."_

"_I'm not condemning you. I love you, you're my mother and even if you didn't care very much for my father, Aunt Melly said that you made him very happy for the little life he had left to live. For that, she was eternally grateful."_

"_He was a good man Wade, I was lucky to have him," she said softly, not meaning it, but feeling that it should be said._

"_Thank you for that," he replied, his brown eyes were thoughtful as he stood. "Ella will come around. I've spoken to her about Aunt Sue, but she's still so young. She can't see that the surface of things isn't everything."_

"_Can you see that?"_

"_Past the surface of things?" He asked, momentarily confused._

"_Yes."_

_The confident mask of manhood that he had worn through most of their conversation was gone. "I'm not sure what you mean."_

"_I didn't banish you and your sister to Tara to hurt you. I did it because I thought that it could be better for you both here and not in Atlanta in that house. Uncle Rhett, Aunt Melly, Bonnie; they were all gone and I thought that being there might hurt you two all that much more."_

"_Where is Uncle Rhett now?" Asked Wade eagerly._

"_Charleston."_

_He nodded, and then smiled. "When he comes home, send for us. Ella will go home if he's there and I'll come for a visit._

_She hadn't had the heart to tell him if that were the only thing that would bring them back to Atlanta, they would never see that town again._

Slipping off her dressing gown, she laid down on the bed, her eyes tracing the patterns of the canopy's embroidery. There was the option of returning to Charleston. Initially, when she arrived, she would have to humble herself to get in the door, but once she told Rhett her news, he would allow her to stay. Allow. Not ask, not request, and certainly not want her to stay; he would tolerate her presence because she carried his child.

Only because of the baby would she be allowed back into his life. She wanted him to come to her, if for no other reason than Savannah was not Charleston where he felt at ease. If he came to Savannah, he could not hide over at the Landing or leave her to his mother. They would be on equal footing in Savannah.

Was it even possible to bring him without telling him about the baby? She just couldn't tell him about the baby, not without knowing if he cared for her and her alone. There was nothing she could think of momentous enough to bring him to Savannah…except the divorce.

She could say that she would not be honoring their prior arrangement. She would tell him that she'd reconsidered and if he had anything further to say about it, he could say it in person, in Savannah. That would infuriate him, he hated being disobeyed and he would see this as especially infuriating because they had had an agreement. Perhaps, being double-crossed would be enough to drive him to Savannah.

In her ideal scenario, he would not bother to send a letter or go through their lawyers He would feel the need to do it in person to fully impress upon her the importance of her refusal to bend to his will.

She smiled faintly and stroked her stomach, pleased with her plan. He would come to yell at her and once he arrived, she would start complaining about nausea and then fake a few dizzy spells. Rhett might see through all of that, but he was no fool. He would not leave before finding out for sure whether or not she was expecting a child. Once he learned she was, he wouldn't leave her side.

Drifting off to sleep, she knew that he might not call her on her symptoms right away but, that could only work to her advantage. It would serve to give her time to make some headway with him. They had been coming to an understanding in Charleston, towards the end of the visit. Sometimes, when they would share a casual conversation out on the piazza, she had been sure that he still loved her.

Drawing the covers close, she felt a tear trickle over the bridge of her nose. If only he had contacted her just once since she'd left Charleston. If he had even sent her a short note, asking about her health after their accident, she would know he cared. If she knew that he still cared, even a little, she would have caught the first train to Charleston the second she suspected that she was carrying his child.

Another tear traced the path of its predecessor and surrendering she did not try to force them back. If he had done anything at all to show her that he did care for her, it would have enabled her to tell him the truth without the need for scheming and half-truths.

How could he have just abandoned her to fate without giving her a second thought?

Had he spared her a moment's thought since the night he left her in Charleston, did he speak her name aloud or did he banish her from his conversation and thoughts. Did he ever fall asleep wishing she were beside him, could he have missed her, even a little?

Had there been other women since they parted ways? Her stomach twisted and she, ever the harsh realist, knew the most probable answer. Did he seek out women just for moments of physical release or because they bore a resemblance to her? Did he try to fill her empty place with a pale facsimile of her? Did she matter enough to him that he would even bother?

It was a long time before she fell into a restless, mercifully dreamless, slumber.


	13. Long Voyage

**_So I might have not have realized how long it had been since I last posted a chapter of this. In my defense, I write less when Cassie is out of the hospital. She has been out since Feb. 22. I feel like the blackest of clouds has moved out of the way of the sun at long last. Thank you for the pokes recently. You know who you are, pat yourselves on the back, that's the reason there is a chapter this morning._**

The ride to Savannah never seemed so long. Time did not so much pass as creep by. Finally, knowing that it was the only way to preserve his sanity, he forced himself to refrain from pulling his pocket watch out. In hindsight, Rhett wished he'd thought to bring something to occupy his mind. Not that he would have accomplished anything paper but the tedium of the ride was driving him insane. Knowing that by nightfall he would be face to face with Scarlett did little to alleviate the feelings of uncertainty within him. Just what he'd say or do when they were face to face was still a mystery. A simple "I missed you" would hardly suffice after three months and a decade of hurt feelings and disappointments.

Yet again Scarlett equated the great unknown. Would she be glad to see him? Would she let him take her in his arms and slowly explore her mouth with his? Would she allow him to simply take her in his arms and hold her?

It had been three months since the boat capsized in the rough waters outside Charleston Harbor. Three months since he'd left her that goddamn note telling her that he would never see her again. Three agonizing, seemingly unending months since he'd last seen her lying in bed at his mother's house. When he left she'd been so pale and helpless, was she completely recovered?

Rosemary swore that she was fully recovered when she left but Rosemary's act of betrayal forever destroyed his faith in her word. Hindsight was a curse, he was coming to realize. After her departure, whenever he had mentioned Scarlett, his dear sister immediately changed the subject. At the time, he thought she was trying to take his mind off of Scarlett. Now, looking back, he could see that only his trust in his sister kept him from finding her behavior suspicious.

A dry chuckle rumbled in his chest. Rhett Butler, great observer of the human race, had been thoroughly deceived by his own sister. It should have been obvious that something of some considerable importance was on her mind. When Scarlett was mentioned, she would become placid without a hint of emotion, but her dark eyes were overly bright and she sometimes could not meet his probing, bloodshot gaze. At the time, he dismissed it. What could she know, he'd thought? Scarlett wouldn't have confided anything of importance in Rosemary; or so he'd thought.

Tearing his thoughts from his treacherous sister, Rhett focused on the woman who would be at the end of his pilgrimage. Years before, when he had been blockading, he dreamt of her. In those dreams, she had been sheer fantasy, comprised of equal parts of lust and desire. But now, after having been married to her, intimate knowledge of Scarlett had forged new dreams.

Smiling faintly, he sat back in his seat. What was it that Aristotle had said about beauty?

Scarlett was not what most people would call a classic beauty. Her features were too sharp for her to have been cast from the mold of Helen or Cassandra. Her eyes, when unguarded, glittered with a predatory light that set some people ill at ease. And yet, in comparison with every woman he'd ever known, she rose above. She was his match in stubbornness and foolish pride.

Damn his pride and hers too for that matter. What had pride won either of them in the end except three months of worry and aggravation?

Standing in the hall of Pierre Robiliard's house, Rhett took his hat and overcoat off, handing them to the servant at the door. He was about to tell the young man to fetch Scarlett, but she was already there. Attired in a simple green tea dress with her hair unbound, it was clear she was not expecting him. Standing at the bottom of the steps, Scarlett watched him with curiosity and relief warring in her flawless jade colored eyes. Her pale cheeks began to glow with color as she observed his eyes sweeping over her face and form. She seemed as glad to see him as he was to see her his heart cried triumphantly.

"Leave us," said Scarlett to the blatantly curious servant. When they were alone together, she raised her eyes to meet his own. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, but smiling hesitantly she whispered, "Rhett, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I had to come," he admitted ruefully, "I didn't want to, but I had to come. I had to see you."

Her eyes widened at his unexpected reply. "Why?"

"Because of this," he replied, crossing the space between them in a few steps. Pulling her into an embrace, he felt like he finally found the only place in the entire world that could ever be his home, the tightening circle of her arms. His lips were gentle against hers. For once in their lives together, he wanted her to know only gentleness from him.

Moving his lips from hers, he kissed her jaw before moving to the hollow at the base of her throat. "I knew you would come back to me," she murmured joyfully.

"How could I not, I need you," he said before kissing her again.

Then she said them, those three, once seemingly insignificant words. Three words that could move mountains when strung together in a sentence. "I love you," she whispered against his lips, "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

* * *

He awoke with a start, blinking blearily just as the train pulled into the Broad Street Station. Having only taken the time to pack a small carpetbag, he waved off the porter that appeared at the door to his private compartment. He wanted nothing to keep him; a delay of even a few minutes was nearly unbearable. It was almost too much to wait patiently while another porter hailed him a cab.

The house, according to miss Pauline's directions, was only a mile from the depot, but the spring rains had churned the red Georgian clay into a thick, viscous sludge. Though he would have counted the loss of his shoes well worth it, he had resisted the urge to run through the streets like a man possessed. That brought a smile smirk to his lips. He was indeed a man possessed, a man possessed by the thought of Scarlett O'Hara Butler.

He would just have to be patient. After waiting nearly three months, he could afford patience. She could never know that he had been so consumed by the need to see her once again. It would be best if she believe, at least for the time being, that he had come to see her in an attempt to "keep the gossip down," just as he'd promised the year before. Once he knew how she felt, he could disclose to her how he'd come to miss her and how much he regretted leaving her behind in Charleston.

* * *

Keeping an eye on Grandfather's door, Scarlett wrapped her paisley shawl around her body. The rain that had fallen steadily over the last two days had finally tapered off and she was ready to get away from her grandfather's house. The house was too close, entombing her within its walls. It was still early, if she hurried to could go over to Maureen's and speak with her cousin Column about what she should do. How could I still be so uncertain, she thought wearily.

Though it went against every instinct she possessed, she was leaning toward telling Rhett the truth about the baby. Before leaving her in Atlanta he claimed to have loved her for years. That sort of love couldn't die completely, not if he was sincere in his admission. Now was his chance to prove it. Her idea to bait him into coming to Charleston was ludicrous, just one more game added to the hundreds of others they'd played over the years. It was time for the truth, or whatever version of it they could come closest to.

On the beach, he lied to her. He told her that he used her, just as she used him. But, she could see the doubt in his eyes and the tension in his body. He had been trying to convince himself every bit as much as her.

She needed him, more importantly their baby needed him.

For years questions about her feelings for Rhett had nagged her, but she'd pushed them aside, considering them interlopers into her consciousness. From that first reel at the bazaar, she was willing to admit that they made a handsome pair. Before they were married, when he took her on carriage rides and picnics, she would never have dared used the word love in relation to what she felt but she knew that his dark good looks and ever present wit turned her head. Never her heart though, her heart she held chaste and safe, in reserve for Ashley Wilkes alone.

If they were to have a chance at happiness, things needed to be different this time. Swallowing her pride would not come easy to her, but if that was the sacrifice she was going to have to make then, so be it. For this baby, she would humble herself.

This baby was a miracle. She never thought of any of her pregnancies as being something to celebrate. Wade had been a shock, Ella a burden; even Bonnie who she came to love initially caused her to despair. Only the baby she lost had been wanted, and a part of her wanted that baby to use as a way to bring Rhett to heel. From previous experience she knew that when she was expecting he was less likely to go tearing off to God knew where. She would have played that baby as her trump card and after two years of loss and regret, she could now see that clearly.

The baby they conceived on the beach was a gift, one she would not taint with trickery or juvenile wrangling for supremacy.

There was only one thing to do; she had to tell him and soon.

But how?

* * *

It was just after two when he pushed a roll of bills into the driver's hand, oblivious to the amount. How ever much it was must have been more than enough to cover the ride and then some judging from the way the driver had called "Thank ya' sir," to his retreating back as it disappeared through the front gate of the Robiliard property.

The money didn't matter, though he suspected he'd given the man as much as twenty dollars for a ten-minute ride. What mattered was Scarlett; she was in the house that stood before him. He found a sort of peace descending on him. Whatever happened, good or bad, at least he'd know where she was. Standing before her, he would be able to see how she was. After three months of searching, she would no longer be out in the world, whereabouts unknown.

No matter what happened, that was more then he'd known a week ago and for that, he was grateful.

* * *

This was something she needed to do alone. Leaving Pansy strict instructions to see that she rested undisturbed, Scarlett waited till activity in the house fell into its usual afternoon inactivity. Forcing herself to walk instead of bolt down the stairs, Scarlett paused on the landing to look around. None of the servants were around and for that she muttered a hasty prayer of thanksgiving. She did not want to have to speak to her grandfather before leaving. She couldn't endure another minute of making polite conversation about places she'd never been and people who were long in their graves.

Judging the coast to be clear, she continued down the stairs, resisting the urge to run. Nothing could happen to this baby she though before lightly caressing her stomach. For the sake of this child, she was about to do what only a few days ago has seemed unthinkable. She was going to go to Western Union and send Rhett a telegram asking him simply to come to Savannah. How she would word it, she still hadn't decided, but she would come up with something on the walk over to the office.

Reaching the front door, she allowed herself a moment's pause to slow her racing heart. She felt like a girl again, sneaking out for a ride when she should have been napping. Slowly she squeezed the big brass door handle till she felt it give under her hand. She was so close to freedom that nothing could stop her now.

Pulling the door shut behind her, Scarlett laughed exuberantly. Her escape undetected, she turned to make her way down the front walkway when she ran head long into an unyielding figure. Large, strong hands caught her by the forearms, keeping her from falling. Lifting her eyes Scarlett found Rhett looking down at her with slightly bloodshot, but amused eyes.

Just as in his dream, she studied him with confusion before whispering, "What are you doing here?"

His black gaze disconcerted her, he could see that, but she could not look away. It wasn't in her to run, that's what surprised him about her departure from Charleston. He'd never expected her to run. "I could ask you the very same thing."

Unable to look away, she blushed under his scrutiny. "I don't understand."

"I have been searching for you for nearly three months. I've hired private investigators, bribed ship's captains for passenger lists. I've imagined nearly a dozen horrible fates that could have befallen you."

Finding herself being put in the position of being in the wrong immediately set Scarlett's teeth on edge. "You told me to leave Charleston. I couldn't make you love me again so I thought I could at least honor your wishes," she counted defensively.

They spent a moment glaring at one another before she reached up to rest her palm against his face. "You look as though you haven't slept in days."

"Feels like years." He turned his head slightly; taking her hand in his, he kissed her palm gently.

Her heart stirred a little. She was angry that he was acting as though she just ran off without any provocation, but he was here at last and she couldn't force herself to find the anger she needed to rely on to continue hurling barbed words. "Why don't we go inside and talk?"

Turning his attention toward the house, Rhett asked incredulously. "The house is pink, isn't it? I thought it was a lack of sleep but my God, it really is pink."

"Your mother told me grandfather did it for my grandmother. Much of the inside of the house is also rather pastel," Scarlett told him with a smile.

"And suddenly your taste in architecture makes a great deal of sense."

"You came all this way to insult my taste in décor?"

"No I came all this way because I was worried about you. I have looked everywhere for you. I went to Atlanta to the Peachtree House. I went to Henry Hamilton but he wouldn't tell me anything even when I told him that if he knew where you were he had a legal obligation to disclose to me your whereabouts."

Smirking, she asked, "What did he have to say to that? I can't see Henry appreciating a threat like that."

"He told me that I could sue him if I liked but he had nothing further to say to me regarding you."

"Dear Henry," she said, "he was very vocal in his disapproval of my plans to stay in Savannah." She tilted her head; something he'd just said made little sense to her. Why would he have to ask Henry Hamilton where she was? His earlier words came back to her and now that her surprise at seeing him had abated slightly, she was able to reassess his words. "Why do you keep talking as though you didn't know where I was? I left you a note telling you I'd gone to see my grandfather with my aunts. I know its been three months but why not start here, even if I'd gone, at least someone might have told you where I'd gone."

Rhett smiled. It was a weary smile, but still it was a smile. "Rosemary burned your notes. The one for mother in addition to the one for me."

Scarlett's brow furrowed slightly. "I don't understand, the one for your mother wasn't more than three lines, thanking her for her hospitality and telling her where I'd gone." Hope suddenly brightened her eyes and she clutched his hands in her own. "You never saw your note?"

Light flashed in his dark eyes and he squeezed her hand back. "No. I never saw my note."

Lips parting slightly, she exhaled softly. "Oh. But then…"

"Rosemary saw it.

He was telling the truth, but what effect that truth would have on their marriage remained to be seen. Was this his way of saying he would have come if he'd known where to go? "I see. I suppose she burned it because she thought she was saving you from my clutches."

"She is twelve years too late for that."

"I thought you read it and just didn't care." She turned away, hiding her expression from his intent gaze. "Come inside. I'll introduce you to my grandfather."

"Not yet, is there somewhere we can go where you and I can be alone. We have a great deal to talk about."

"The summer house. No one goes out there anymore, not since the Aunts went home."

"Lead the way my dear."

**_A/N_**

**_Congrats goes out to colorofangels, winner for the second year in a row of the win a visit from the author sweepstakes. Her prize package consisted of a five day visit by me to her home, a meal at Denny's, cotton candy at Disneyland and spoilers for this story as well as FTE._**

**_I even acted the spoilers out. My Jason Cross is disturbing to say the least._**

**_YAY DANI!_**


	14. Counting

**For Fred, because he wrote back.**

Though he had not set foot in the backyard of his home in over ten years, the grounds of Pierre Robiliard's house were as immaculately maintained as they had been in the decades before the war. The grounds were made up of several small formal gardens, laid out in the French style by the late Solange Robillard. Rich in exotic plants and trees, they were a fitting setting for the numerous entertainments Solange once hosted as premier hostess of Savannah.

Waxy, white petaled calla lilies grew in clumps, their broad, arrow shaped dark green leaves serving to directly contrast the pure white of the pitcher shaped bloom. Glossy leafed box woods were painstakingly clipped into fantastic topiaries. Towards the back of the property, a grove of grace willows stood in a semi-circle around a small pond. At the pond's center, reachable only by an ornamental bridge, was a small screened pavilion. During long ago summers, Solange would hold court in the afternoons on the tiny island, its screened summerhouse her refuge, gathering around her the disposed aristocracy of France who in most cases came by way of Haiti.

Before the aunts left for Charleston, they'd spent countless hours regaling Scarlett with tales of past occasions celebrated in the summerhouse. They spoke, with shinning eyes, of elaborate birthday teas attended by dozens of girls, all from the best families in Savannah. Later, when they were older, the two elder Robiliard sisters welcomed their suitors; their virtue guarded over by the hawk like eyes of Mammy, in the summerhouse's cool confines.

Neither sister felt the need to disclose to Scarlett the tie between her very existence and the summerhouse. Scarlett had no way of knowing but the summerhouse had borne witness to the events that lead to the beginnings of the grand passion between Ellen and her reckless cousin, Philippe. It had also been in the summerhouse that a broken hearted, but resolved Ellen had told Gerald O'Hara that she would marry him.

Walking next Rhett, Scarlett's emotions were in turmoil. Chancing a glance at him from the corner of her eye, her heart broke at how exhausted he looked. There were new strands of gray at his temples. Small lines at the corners of his dark eyes were permanently etched deep from countless sleepless nights. His cheekbones, normally sharp and well defined were slightly obscured by still swollen flesh. He looked nearly as worn as he had after Bonnie died. Grief and an enormous amount of alcohol nearly ruined him after her death, it seemed that history nearly came close to repeating itself. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and laugh or cry or possibly do both at the same time. He was here at last and she hadn't a clue as to how she should proceed.

The air between them seemed heavy, alive with possibilities and the threat of disappointment. His words on the front walk were jumbled in her head. He'd been worried about her, his sister was twelve years too late to save him from her, and he never saw her note. Did he at least know what the note said? Did he care for her again? Why had he really come? She desperately wanted to believe his intentions were good, that he'd come because he wanted to be with her, but she knew him. Right now, righteous indignation and suspicious caution were her best friends.

With her heart thudding painfully in her chest she allowed him to take her arm as they cross the bridge to the island. Her expressive eyes darkened from jade to a translucent emerald as she struggled to keep a blank expression of composure on her pale face. Waiting until the door to the summerhouse was closed, Scarlett drew in a shuddering breath. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned. Facing him, she shook her head lightly. "Even without my note I still don't see how it took you so long to find me. I would have thought it would be obvious where I'd gone."

Amusement sparkled in his dark eyes. "Obvious? It should have been obvious to me that you'd withdrawn to Savannah, to spend time in the company of a man for whom you've professed nothing but contempt?" He lightly caught her by the shoulders, giving her a small, but meaningful shake. "How could I guess that you'd come here? You've told me on numerous occasions that you detested your grandfather."

An embarrassed flush spilled across her pale face. "I'm sure I've never said I detested him," she murmured demurely. He was right, God damn him to hell, thought Scarlett, she had been adamant about her dislike for her mother's father. Why shouldn't she hate him, the old monster had turned his back on his family after the war, leaving them to starve. That old hurt festered for years till she could scarcely hear mention of Pierre Robiliard without falling into a temper. "I still don't know that you could have been looking for me all that hard…" she grumbled softly.

His hands dropped from her shoulders. Arms encircled her waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. Holding her close, Rhett inhaled the scent of rosewater and lilac that clung to her hair and body.

They needed to talk, he thought, to settle things between them, but right now what he needed most was to hold her close, safe and unharmed, in the circle of his arms. The flash of possessiveness was an unpleasant surprise, but he could not deny what he knew to be true. She was his, only his, she belonged to him just as he belonged only to her.

"Rhett," she started to speak but his lips were on hers, silencing her before she could continue. His mouth covered hers completely. At first his lips against hers were tender but when she made no move to meet his passion with any of her own, he became rougher. She tried to turn her head but his kisses became even more demanding though she wondered if that was at all possible.

Realizing she could not fight against the feelings his touch inspired in her, she raised herself up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. In that one perfect moment of passion they found common ground and that discovery only served to propel them forward. Pulling her closer, desperately needing more contact, Rhett moved his mouth from hers, kissing her throat several times before nipping it slightly just above the spot where her heart beat with frantic flutters born of need and desire.

She cried out breathlessly, calling out his name in a pleading whisper. Elated, Rhett kissed her again. This time, he would accept nothing but her unconditional surrender. Deepening his kisses, he left her no alternative but to open her mouth. When she relented, he threaded one hand in the hair at the nape of her neck, his other arm tightening around her still slim waist. Sliding his hand from her nape, he kissed her one last time before cradling her face, his thumb stroking gently over her cheekbone.

Her head fell back, lips pursed, waiting for him to kiss her again. After waiting a moment, she Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. He did not speak, choosing to study her silently. The earlier good humor was gone from his dark eyes. They were hunted, anxiously regarding her. It was clear; he'd suffered during her absence, aging visibly since she'd last seen him. But she couldn't allow his appearance to sway her; after all, what if this was some whim, an attempt to banish some of the misery that seemed to be weighing him down. "Why are you here, the truth," she asked anxiously, her face still flushed from their impromptu embrace.

A hundred flippant answers came to mind, but the truth won out in the end. "I'm here to bring you home."

A hesitant smile formed on her lips. Giving him a slight, encouraging nod she waited a moment for the rest of his explanation before she realized there was no rest. Resentment burned in her breast. Could he possibly think she would just accept that he was here with no explanation as to what inspired him to come? She was supposed to just accept that he changed his mind without any explanation as to why? No, she thought resolutely, she couldn't just allow him to spirit her away on just because he'd decided to show up on her doorstop without knowing the whole story. "And?"

Brushing an errant lock of hair from her cheek, he smiled at the annoyance in her voice. "And what?"

"You're here to bring me home? Just out of nowhere you show up, unannounced to drag me back to Charleston and you won't tell me why? Three months ago you couldn't wait to see the back of me, so why come now? What could have changed so much in three months?"

"Me," he replied succinctly.

He moved to kiss her again but, before he could, she slipped out of his embrace. "Oh no you don't," she snapped, "I'm still mad at you."

Rhett raised a dark brow. "Mad at me, you're joking."

Scarlett's eyes narrowed as she felt that familiar stab of exasperation that came from trying to have a serious conversation with Rhett Butler. "I was here in Savannah going half out of my mind wondering where you were and when I wasn't wondering where you were, I was wondering if I'd ever see you again."

Rhett heaved a sighed born of mingled amusement and exasperation. "Substitute Charleston for Savannah and I could say the same thing to you."

"I know where I've been," she replied smugly.

"Well," he said, fighting a smile, "that makes one of us." Touching her face lightly, he stroked the curve of her cheekbone, "besides," he leaned closer to her, his lips nearly caressing her ear, "I had a very pressing reason to come for you," he whispered seductively.

Shivering, she rested her palm against his chest. "And that is?"

Leaning back, he replied, his voice returning to its normal timbre, "You owe me five thousand dollars."

"Five thous-," she sputtered, shoving him back. In a huff of wounded dignity she relocated herself to the window seat overlooking the bridge. With a petulant scowl she crossed her arms over her chest. . "How in the hell do you figure I owe you five thousand dollars?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's a casual estimate. If you like, I could sit down and come up with a far more accurate tally." He grinned at her ire filled expression. "Five thousand dollars was about how much I spent trying to find you."

A smile crept onto her face, chuckling softly Scarlett countered, "I left you a note, that absolves me of all financial responsibility."

He stood before her, reaching down, he took her hands in his own. Looking down at them, he admired her now soft flesh, remembering how work and post war deprivation had coarsened her delicate skin, silently he vowed to never leaveher to her own devices again. Lifting first one palm to his lips then the other, he pressed a single kiss in her sensitive flesh. She swallowed spasmodically at the prickling feel of his moustache skin against her smooth palms. "Does it?"

"It does indeed," she replied.

Laughing, he pulled her to her feet. She came willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist before resting the side of her head against his shirtfront. The familiar aroma of tobacco, whiskey, and a myriad of other scents that were purely Rhett brought unbidden tears to her eyes. "I don't understand how your sister could do such an awful thing. I know she doesn't like me, but you're her brother, " her voice caught in her throat, "she only helped make a bad situation that much worse. Didn't she care that you were hurting?"

Kissing her forehead, he rested his chin on the top of her head. "Did she care," he mused, half to himself, "I wish I knew. What possessed her to continue to keep her treachery a secret, I can't answer that either. I suppose that this is just one more thing we'll have in common in our new life together."

"A life together, do you see us having one?"

'Yes. Look at me Scarlett." She raised her face and this time when his dark head descended, his mouth swiftly slanting over hers, she did not attempt to turn away.

Capturing her lips in a deeply passionate kiss that made their earlier embrace pale into insignificance, Rhett seduced her. With his mouth and hands, he wore down the final lingering shreds of her earlier resistance, demanding that she give herself up to the pleasure he knew was coursing through her. Passion and desire coursed through his own body as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her over a wicker chaise.

Without allowing her the chance to protest, he unbuttoned the bodice of her dress. Scarlett shuddered as his fingers caressed the expanse of now exposed flesh. Wrapping her arms tightly around him, meeting him kiss for kiss, she whispered, "I've missed you so."

Hearing the hurt, the faint undertone of grief in her words moved him. Though he feared he would regret it later, he knew that if he didn't stop kissing her, their reunion would be little more than a hasty coupling in a seldom used summerhouse. As she watched him with baleful eyes, he slowly rebuttoned her bodice "I can only think of a few things more uncomfortable locations than that of our last liaison. Making love to you on a rickety wicker chase is one of them."

Impatiently shoving his fingers away, she began to button the remaining jet buttons. "You are getting ahead of yourself Captain Butler, a few kisses don't mean that I am going to allow you to take me at the first given opportunity," she replied tartly.

"You sound so sure, are you issuing me a challenge," he asked, running his fingertip down her still exposed décolletage.

"No," she replied bluntly. "In the past we've played a similar game. If you recall, I lost. Badly."

"You've always been a poor loser Scarlett."

"You came because you were worried about me, what did you think could have happened to me?

"I wasn't worried about you, I was just curious about your whereabouts," he corrected her.

"You just said you were worried about me not more than ten minutes ago."

The way she asked so pointedly about his feelings made him suddenly wary, deciding to protect himself from further heartbreak, he proceeded with caution. "You misheard me. You're a big girl Scarlett, I never doubted your ability to take care of yourself."

"True, I can take care of myself quite nicely" Coming to her feet, she moved toward the summerhouse door. "As you can see, I'm fine. I have not wasted away; nor am I crushed at being so callously discarded by you."

Their flippant banter had gone on long enough he suddenly decided. Catching her by the wrist, he shook his head. "I'll show you my cards if you'll show me yours."

She shook off his grip. Not wanting to further aggravate her, he allowed her to. "I don't have any cards Rhett, if I did, I thought I had shown them to you. Whether you saw it or not, I wrote you a note telling you just how I feel," she corrected herself, "how I felt about you. You're the one who still has secrets. I thought we'd established that you came because you were concerned about me. Now you say that isn't so. I don't know what you want from me. If you can't be honest with me, then we really have nothing more to discuse."

"You're going to make this difficult for me, aren't you?"

Scarlett shrugged slightly, "The thought had occurred to me."

"I came to you as soon as I found out where you were, shouldn't that count for something?"

"It does," she replied, her green eyes glittering with what he thought could be tears until she spoke, "it counts just as much to me as it did to you when I came to Charleston and threw myself at you."

"Scarlett..."

"You..." her voice broke a little, but the anger in her eyes never wavered, "you treated me like I was a stranger or worse, some discarded whore that had the audacity to hang around you, beginning for any sort of recognition. Now you're here and you think all that it will take to make things right is a charming smile and some kisses."

"It counted Scarlett, you'll never know how much. After you left, when I tried to convince myself you didn't care as much as you said you did, I looked at what you endured at my hands and I knew…Scarlett, I knew that the only reason you would allow me to treat you so poorly was because you loved me."

"And the only reason you could treat me so poorly is that you no longer loved me, if you indeed every really did."

**R.I.P **

**Fred Crane**

**1918-2008**

**God Bless You**

_**"What do we care if we were expelled from college, Scarlett? The war is going to start any day now, so we'd have left college anyhow."  
**_


	15. Blame

**A big thanks goes out to Alica who read this more times than anyone should have had to. CaptScarlett who keeps poking me with that damned stick of her and Dani for just being Dani.**

This wasn't how he envisioned their reunion. He'd spent the last two months in a nearly constant drunken state; dreaming of her, longing for her, searching for her. The idea of seeing Scarlett again had consumed him, waking and dreaming, for the last three months. In spite of what he'd once told himself, he could not live without her, nor did he want to. Catching her chin in his hand, he forced her to look at him. "Take a long look my dear, tell me what you see."

She struggled, twisting furiously in his grip. "Let me alone," she demanded.

"If I let you go, will you stay and listen?"

"Yes," she agreed hastily.

He released her. Immediately she swung out but before her hand could connect with his cheek, he caught her wrist in a gentle, but firm grip. "Scarlett, when you look at me, what do you see?"

"I don't know," she said between gritted teeth.

"Look at me." Her eyes met his, reluctance clear in the firm set of her jaw. "Look at me Scarlett, what do you see? You know, tell me," he urged. Flinching at the naked emotions in his voice, she stopped fighting but he did not release her. "Scarlett," he demanded.

"You look as though you haven't been sober since the day I left Charleston," she cried out, "there," she closed her eyes against sudden tears, "are you happy now? You look as if you haven't slept more than a few hours, and I don't know if I've ever seen you like this except…" she trailed off, her gaze drifting to a point somewhere over his shoulder.

Touching her face, he nodded, giving her permission. "Say it. Except when?"

"When she died. But even then, you didn't look like this. I've never seen you look so," she paused, searching for the right words to convey her dismay at his appearance, "so, not yourself, so defeated" she managed finally. Moving as if it had a mind of its own, her free hand reached out to caress his cheek. "The Rhett Butler I knew, he was always unbeatable." She pressed her hand against his skin, reassuring herself that he indeed stood before her. "Even the night Atlanta fell, you were so in control, so unafraid. I hated you for it."

His hand curved over hers. "Scarlett…"

She slid her hand out from under his; the moment of intimacy had passed, gone as quickly as it had come. "I'm sorry you thought something had happened to me. For that, I truly am sorry. So shouldn't have worried though, I always land on my feet."

He smiled a little. "Like a cat, but it wasn't your fault that I was half out of my mind with worry, it was Rosemary's fault. But, while I would like to assign her all the blame, it was my fault as well. I should have stayed till you were fully recovered. I was wrong to leave you in Charleston; I didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure of my feelings for you."

"And you're sure now," she asked.

"Completely. I am asking you for a second chance."

"Why should I give you one," she asked. She couldn't just give in. He would not respect her for it and in the end it would prove to him that he had carte blanche to hurt her when ever he chose to without worries of ramifications. "You didn't want to give me one."

"You're right, I didn't. So prove you're a better person than me," he said, throwing down the gauntlet, "give me a chance to prove to you that I deserve a second chance. Let me have the opportunity to prove to you how much I love you."

"Rhett, I don't…?"

"Trust me," he said succinctly.

"I can't."

"Because I hurt you?"

She shook her head and answered him. "Because we're strangers."

He laughed; her statement was so ridiculous that he could do nothing else but laugh. "Scarlett, you're joking? We've been apart a few months and…"

Pushing him away, Scarlett needed to put space between them. Sitting on the chaise, she tried to compose her jumbled thoughts and conflicted feelings into a coherent train of thought. "I'm serious," she told him, her face still in the semi gray light filtering into the summerhouse, "you and I don't know each other, not really."

"Honey, you and I have been very close," he smiled slightly, letting the word close speak volumes, "over the years, I hope that's not how you treat strangers," he teased, raising a brow. He was hoping to put her at ease but from the way, her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed; he knew he'd failed.

She was serious. That she truly believed the validity of her statement was something he now accepted without question. Tears were slowly tracing their way down her cheeks. Her eyes were dark, the eyes of a hunted creature at last cornered by the dogs. "You always have to hide, don't you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I thought we were finished lying? But if you need an explanation, then allow me to provide you with one. You hide Rhett. You hide behind some crude innuendo and pretend you don't know what I mean. When we were married you would change the subject to distract me from seeing how you truly felt…"

"We are still married Scarlett. You are my wife."

There was a strange light in her beautiful green eyes. Some of the anger had faded to be replaced with resignation. "We are strangers," she retorted, repeating her earlier assertion. "I don't know why you do the things that you do. And you think you know me, but really, you don't. I came to you that night in Atlanta and I poured out my heart. I did it again in Charleston and you couldn't look at me and see that it was true. That I loved you."

His patience wearing thin, this was not going at all how he'd hoped it would. Jamming his fists into his pockets, he tried to rein in his annoyance. Rhett was feeling certain that if he didn't get his emotions under control he would seize her by the shoulders and shake her till she saw sense. "I was wrong, is that what you've been longing to hear? That I should have given you a chance to prove you cared…."

A hectic crimson colored her pale cheeks. The anger was back and in a perverse way, he couldn't help but welcome it. An angry Scarlett was a familiar Scarlett. The flashes of a different, unknown woman that had emerged during their talk had been unexpected. Always an adventurer, Rhett embraced the unexpected when it came in the guise of the sea or a risky business deal, but it was not so welcome when he found it in the woman who had his heart.

"I did prove I cared, I followed you like a dog to Charleston when I knew you didn't want to see me. I groveled, mother of God, do you know what that took for me to humble myself like that?" She was on her feet now, her face animated, angry flaming in her eyes. "Do you know what that's like? Have you ever lowered yourself to beg someone to love you, to let you love them? Have you?" She cried out, her voice cracking.

His dark face was emotionless. "Do you want me to grovel?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head.

"What was that, I didn't catch that."

"I said no, I don't want you to grovel."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Time."

"Something we don't have a great deal of by my estimate."

"We have plenty of time, unless you planning on going somewhere?"

"Home."

A small smirk settled on her lips. "Giving up, just like that?"

He smiled, "Not at all, I plan on taking you with me. What sort of husband would I be if I left you here? I want you to be as comfortable as possible while we wait for the baby to come."

Her eyes widened, her mind racing frantically. He knew. That was why he had come. Not because he loved her, not because he needed her and wanted her back. No, his coming to Savannah was because of the baby she carried. She should have known. Rhett Butler always seemed to know what she was going to do before she did it. His adoration of Bonnie had bordered on near fanatical worship; his feelings toward this baby would be magnified in the face of what they'd lost. He only wanted her to serve as brood mare and then, when their baby came, he would cast her out of his life, and the life of her baby. The thought of losing another child drove her to desperate measures. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," he replied without hesitation, "your aunts were not only so kind as to inform me of your whereabouts but they also told me that you'd been tired and had been feeling ill."

"It was the heat, when we first got here, the weather was unseasonably warm."

"You've never been affected by the heat a day in your life."

"If I was ill, after what happened to us, why is that such a surprise? But believe what you like."

"I shall. Let me tell you what I believe, I believe that you are pregnant. I believe that it is my child. I believe that you are coming home with me."

"I believe you are a jackass," she snapped.

"You are entitled to your own opinion," he informed her with a grin.

"You'll allow lil' ole me to have an opinion all my very own, you're too kind," she turned on heel, "you can find your way out."

Catching her arm, Rhett whipped her around to face him. Without loosening his grip, he reached out with his free hand and began to unbutton her bodice.

'What the hell do you think you're doing," she shrieked, slapping at his hand.

Undaunted by her attempts at mounting a physical attack, he continued to unbutton her dress. "Something unprecedented. My love, for the first time in our entire acquaintance, I am cutting to the chase. We could either continue this verbal wrangling for at least another half of an hour before you admit what I already know to be true, you are carrying my child or I can strip you naked." Grinning brashly, he pointedly ran his eyes up and down her body. "I will admit choice two had certain further advantages besides being expedient."

Her struggles intensified. "Get your god damned hands off of me you son of a bitch…"

"Now, now. What has my mother ever done for you to want to call her names? If you called me a brother of a bitch, I could not deny…"

"I feel sorry for your mother," exclaimed Scarlett, "poor woman, having a son like you."

"I think as far as she is concerned, I'm not so bad."

" I swear if you don't let me go, I'll…."

Her dress, now unbuttoned to the waist, gaped open. Skimming his hand down the front of her chemise, he smiled triumphantly. "You aren't wearing a corset."

She stilled. "So what," she declared, false bravado in her voice.

"I have never known you to go without one."

"I haven't worn one in ages, not since our accident. It doesn't mean anything."

His hand was gentle, lightly resting on the barely detectable curving of her stomach. "I want you to know something, I searched for Scarlett O'Hara Butler for the last few months. Just her. The idea that you could be carrying my child only occurred to me in the last week. I didn't come here because of the baby. I came here for you."

Moving his hand away, he released her arm. "Since the afternoon of that damned barbeque, I knew that I wanted you. I tried to forget you, I tried to learn to live without you, but I never could figure out how. I loved Bonnie and I will love this baby with my whole heart, but don't you understand why? I love our children so much because I love you."

Scarlett pulled her bodice together; sighing softly, she fumbled with a few buttons before giving up. "I wish I could believe that for sure."

"I wish you could too." There was regret in his voice and when she met his gaze, sadness in his dark, usually inscrutable eyes.

Two incredibly strong willed people stood in silence, each trying to appreciate the sacrifices to pride and vanity that the other had made. It was Scarlett who finally spoke first; her jaw set, defiance in her eyes. "I'm going to have a baby," she said.

"Are you happy about it, I seem to recall…"

Pressing her fingers against his lips, she stopped him. "Whatever you recall, it's a long time passed."

He rested his hands lightly on her hips, drawing her close. "Scarlett, I don't want to hurt you."

She raised her eyes to his face. In the depths of his dark eyes, she saw desire. He moved closer and bowed his head, leaning in toward her. In a daze, she reached out again, resting her hands against his chest. Scarlett could smell the rich tang of leather and the oil Rhett used on his hair. Equally familiar were the scents of his shaving soap and the faint cedar aroma that clung to his clothes. Blended together they were a heady musky blend and she wanted to taste him, to drown in it. Her senses heightened, his nearness overpowered her. She was beyond reason, beyond caution. All she wanted was him. "I don't want to be hurt."

He leaned in closer, her face between his hands now. From the corners of her eyes she watched his fingers stroke the soft curves of her cheeks. "I want to take you home Scarlett, where ever that might be. Come home with me."

Her soft lips curved into a smile. "I can't leave just yet."

He laughed softly, "Are you so attached to your grandfather's hospitality?"

"No, I promised him I'd stay with him, until he dies."

"Scarlett! That could be years from now," he exclaimed, releasing her.

"Or weeks," she countered defensively.

"Of all the stupid things…"

"Aren't you even going to ask me why I promised?"

"No, I wasn't going to. I will admit that the thought of tossing you into the first cab I see and going directly to the station was on my mind instead."

"I am not a sack of flour Rhett Butler," she informed him indignantly, "I will not be tossed anywhere. And if you bothered to let me speak, I could explain why I promised him I'd stay on."

"Why would you agree to stay here? You don't even like the man. He refused to help you after the war, why should you stay now to hold his hand until the grim reaper shows up."

"I agreed because at the time I had no where else to go."

"What are you talking about? I promised you the Peachtree Street House and half a million dollars, you could have gone anywhere."

"I don't mean that I physically had no place to go. What I'm trying to say is that there was no one else who needed me to manage things for them. There isn't anything left for me in Atlanta. I've sold the store and the property outside of town. Ashley is managing just fine with India and Pitty looking after him."

"What about Wade and Ella? Don't they need you?"

"No." She blinked back tears that threatened to fall. "Wade loves Tara, almost as much as me, maybe more. He reminds me of my pa. He wants to stay there and Ella…" her small hands clenched, "oh Rhett, you told me you love me, that you want a chance to prove it?"

"Yes to both."

"Sue's turned Ella against me. I went to get the children, I wanted them with me and when I tried to take them, they both refused. Sue twisted everything and now Ella hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you."

"She does," Scarlett declared bitterly, "she loves Sue as if she were her mother. I told Ella that I loved her and wanted her with me, but she didn't wouldn't leave Sue. Sue told me that it's my punishment for taking Frank from her. She told me that since I took Frank from her she took Ella from me."

The agony in her face kindled remorse in his heart. If he'd never left her in the first place, Sue would never have had the opportunity to turn Ella against Scarlett. "Tell your grandfather your husband insists you come home. Go upstairs and pack. We are going to Atlanta and from there, Tara. I'll talk to Wade and Ella."

"She said she'd come with me if you were home again," said Scarlett, hope flooding into her face.

"And I will be."

For the first time they noticed the soft pattering of rain drops on the roof of the summerhouse. A soft misting rain fell; ensuring that at least for the time being, they would not be disturbed.

"Does anyone know where you are right now," asked Rhett, wrapping his arm around her still slender waist.

"I shouldn't think so, if anything Grandfather will think I am 'cavorting' with my O'Hara relations and that I decided to wait out the rain with them."

"So, I have you all to myself," he asked, stroking the curve of her hip.

"So it would seem."

* * *

**Just two chapters left people! YAY!**


	16. Happy Returns

Sitting in the library of the Peachtree Street house, Rhett raised his tumbler in a toast. "My darling, that went better than we had any right to expect."

Reciprocating with her teacup, Scarlett smiled. "Did you see the look on Sue's face when we left?" She laughed merrily. "It was priceless, utterly priceless." But then the smile faded a little. Her joy was tempered with some sadness now, turning her expression into one of melancholy and doubt. "About Ella, do you think she's happy to be back here?"

Putting down his glass, Rhett smiled warmly. "She seems to be very happy Scarlett. She already has plans for us; Wade said it's a list about mile long." His dark eyes flicked toward her middle. "She has plans for her new brother as well."

"A brother is it? Well, we'll see, won't we," she replied mildly, her hand staying briefly to her stomach in a gesture not lost on Rhett. It was a gesture that he'd forgotten, one that he'd seen her make many times throughout her pregnancies with both Ella and Bonnie.

"No guesses?"

"Not a one, what will be, will be. As for Ella, I don't care how long her list is," Scarlett replied, "I'm just glad she wants anything to do with me at all. I know you must be tired of hearing about what happened the last time I went to see her, but I still can't forget how much it hurt. My own child, she wouldn't leave with me. If you hadn't come with me to Tara, I'm not sure if she'd be here right now."

Sitting down next to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. Burying his lips in her hair, he lightly kissed the top of her head. "It's in the past Scarlett. She's here now. So is Wade and before you know it, the baby will be here too. Why worry about the past when the future is spread out before us."

"I just can't forget. This morning when we arrived at Tara, I wasn't entirely sure we'd be leaving with my children. I know I was never an especially demonstrative mother, but for Ella not to want me, to be turned away by my own child. What sort of a woman instigates that? How could my sister do that? I hate her, I hate her so much and I hope to God I never see Sue again." Her lips twisted as if her sister's name left a bad taste in her mouth.

"I would say the feeling is more than mutual, love," observed Rhett candidly.

Scarlett jabbed a finger in his chest, "How much of our conversation did you listening in on," asked Scarlett suspiciously.

"Not very much of it, I just wanted to make sure I could leave you and your sister in the same room for more than five minutes."

"And now you see you were needlessly concerning yourself. I left without shedding any of my sister's blood."

"And for that, I'm extremely proud."

-----------------

He'd been outside the parlor door for nearly ten minutes, listening to the O'Hara sister tear into one another with honeyed words and unsheathed claws. He had no concerns about Scarlett being able to hold her own in a confrontation with her sister, but her present condition made him a little leery of leaving her to a situation where punches could be as easily thrown as words.

"So, you're back again," said Suellen, amusement and feigned pity present in her nasal voice. "I'll give you this Scarlett, you don't take losing gracefully." Smiling sweetly, she added, "But, maybe it's time you start."

Seeing Scarlett's profile reflected in the mirror to her right, Rhett grinned. There was a faint smile of triumph on her soft lips. He had said something similar about her being a poor loser only the week before. No wonder she was smiling triumphantly, he'd come after her, so she certainly hadn't lost.

Arranging her dove gray and rose striped skirts, Scarlett ignored her sister, the small smile curving her lips turned into a smirk.

"Did you hear what I just said," Sue asked, irritated by her sister's saintly expression and demure poses.

"Yes, I did hear you, but I was considering my reply. I suppose I'm a poor loser because I so seldom lose," Scarlett finally remarked. "I haven't had the practice losing that," the smile was back again, "some people have."

"Really?" Two could play at Scarlett's game, thought Sue angrily. Pressing a finger to her pursed lips Sue began to tick off Scarlett's many failures in a soft sing song voice. "You lost Ashley Wilkes to Melanie, you lost Captain Butler to, well...no one. He just couldn't stand being married to you any longer, you've lost Wade to the land, and you lost Ella to me. How much more practice losing do you need sister dear?"

Again, Scarlett only smiled sweetly, irritating her sister still further.

An angry flush spread over Suellen's face. She chose her words carefully, looking for ones sure to wound her smug sister. "you've just come for a visit, at least I hope. If you're hoping for something more, you're going to be woefully disappointed. Nothing has changed from the last time you sulked out of here with your tail between your legs. Ella isn't going anywhere. You would have to drag her out of here kicking and scre---"

A piercing shriek echoed through the hall, surprising Rhett. Ella, coming from the kitchen had spotted her stepfather. Quickly, he lifted a finger to his lips hoping to quiet the child. She did not cry out again, but instead flung herself at him. He caught her up, not expecting the rush of happiness that spread through him as he held her close. After he kissed her cheek, Rhett whispered briefly in her ear. Moving back slightly, he said softly, "Do as I asked Ella," before setting her back on her feet.

During their reunion, which was occurring out of the sight of the parlor's inhabitants, Sue and Scarlett exchanged a glance. In Scarlett's jade eyes glittered something that Sue could not place, but it unnerved her slightly. "What was tha..." but before Suellen could investigate, Ella charged into the parlor.

"Momma!" Ella launched herself headlong into Scarlett's arms. "Uncle Rhett told me we're going home and that we're going to get a new house if we don't want the other house no more and he said you have another surprise but I have to ask you and that you bought me presents when you were away and I can open them when we get back to Atlanta." The little girl paused to take a breath.

In the hallway, Rhett grinned. The child had innocently embroidered on some of what he'd just said, but if it twisted the knife still further in Scarlett's treacherous sister's back, then so be it.

Raising a brow, Scarlett looked up over the top of Ella's head. She smiled at her sister, "I'm sorry Sue, you were saying something?"

"Captain Butler, is he here," Sue sputtered, her eyes wide.

"Of course he is," returned Scarlett demurely, "where else would my husband be but with me?" She shrugged prettily, "He was taking care of some business at his family's rice plantation last time I was here, but that's finished now."

Feeling the balance of power violently shift, Sue clenched her shaking hands into fists. "Ella honey, run and play."

"I don't wann'a," murmured Ella as she snuggled in closer to Scarlett. Inexplicably, the distant, preoccupied woman she'd always known as her mother had been replaced with the smiling warm women she'd always dreamed her mother could be. "Aunt Melanie always said if I was a good girl then I would listen to momma." She lifted her head from Scarlett's breast and smiled sweetly, "Uncle Rhett told me to listen to mama."

"And what Uncle Rhett says goes, isn't that sweet Suellen? Ella just adores Rhett, don't you angel?"

Rhett left Suellen and Scarlett alone, knowing that they would at least pretend to not wanting to see the other dead with Ella present. From a door off the main hall, Rhett found his way outside. The air held a touch of humidity, amplifying the acrid smell of the recently turned earth. Soon the cotton would begin to grow, and then, in time it would bloom. The red earth concealed by acres of clouds.

He was sorry that he never saw Tara in its former glory. It must have been otherworldly to stand beneath the huge oak on top of the rise in the distance and look out across Tara's many acres. He could picture Gerald O'Hara, standing there at sunset, surveying the kingdom he'd built with luck, cunning and the brains in his head.

With such a man as her sire, no wonder Scarlett had more guts than most of the men he'd ever known, thought Rhett chuckling softly. His laughter startled a rabbit out of the underbrush. Watching the creature scamper across the path, Rhett felt a pang of sadness. No matter how much money he allotted Scarlett to rejuvenate Tara, nothing could ever bring it back.

Making his way toward the cleared cotton fields out on the north side of the property, his thoughts turned from Gerald O'Hara's daughter and toward his grandson. He wondered what sort of a welcome he would receive from Wade after such a long absence.

Then, beyond the stand of white pines that boarded the cotton fields, Rhett saw two figures. One was obviously Will Benteen. The way he leaned on a crutch to keep himself from becoming mired in the soft Georgia clay made it easy to identify him, even at a distance. He was talking to one of the hired hands, or so Rhett assumed until the young man took off his hat to wipe his brow.

It was Wade.

Scarlett's son was taller than he would have expected. Wade was not weedy or lanky, but well proportioned for his age and frame. If he wasn't at least 5'6, Rhett would have been surprised. His skin was tanned from working the earth beneath the hot Georgian sun and he knew that when he shook hands with his stepson, the young man's hands would be callused; callused with a firm, strong grip. No one in Atlanta would recognize Wade for the weak, nervous boy he'd once been had clearly been replaced.

Coming to the fence, Rhett leaned against it, raising his hand in greeting. "Wade," he called.

Wade squinted against the sun, his expression guarded when he saw the fine clothes the visitor at the gate was wearing. Then, with a laugh, the boy came to the fence. "Uncle Rhett, hello. I thought for a minute you were a tax collector or something."

"Have you been having trouble," asked Rhett, wondering if Scarlett had been hiding something.

"None to speak of," Wade replied easily, "but out here the only people with such fine clothes work for the government. You're here to see us," his smile brightened, "mother, is she with you as well?"

Nodding, Rhett returned the smile. "She is. She's up at the house talking to your Aunt."

Maneuvering carefully through the mud, Will came to the fence and unfastening the gate, he paused only briefly to nod politely to Rhett. "Cap'n Butler, s'good to see you but you'll have'ta s'cuse me. Scarlett and Sue shouldn't be alone, they'll go at each other like wet cats if I leave 'em sittin' for too long."

Will left, moving quickly up the path, despite his handicap.

Ducking his head a little, Wade grinned apologetically. "You'll have to excuse Uncle Will. He would have stayed to talk but he is the only one since Mammy passed on that can handle mother and Aunt Sue. He'll make sure they don't strangle each other."

"I'd put good money on your mother."

Wade smiled fondly. "You've come for Ella?"

"And you," said Rhett, "if you'll still come back to Atlanta with us. I think it would help with settling Ella back in, if you were there."

Wade wiped his hands on his dungarees. "I hate to leave Uncle Will short, but I did promise mother." His eyes wandered across the wide half cultivated field, his expression reluctant, but from the set of his mouth, he was resigned. "Of course I'll come." Vaulting with easy grace over the spilt rail fence, he knocked his boots against the posts, dislodging brilliant red chunks of clay. "I'd better clean myself up before I see mother, I don't want her seeing me look like a hired hand."

"I don't think she'd mind seeing you covered in that red clay. She loves this place, just as you do, don't you?"

He was pleased that Rhett saw how he felt. His eyes sparkled making him look much younger than his thirteen years. "Yes, I love Tara dearly. When Ella and I first got here, after Aunt Melly died, I was determined to hate it because well, I wanted to hate everything," Wade admitted candidly.

His curiosity piqued, Rhett smiled encouraging him to continue. "What changed?"

"Me. After a while, once I started helping Uncle Will," he shrugged, "its in my blood I guess."

"Your mother once told me that her father would often say that the land was like a mother to an Irishman."

"She never mentions Grandpa Gerald, I wish I'd known him better," said Wade.

"I met him in Atlanta once; he was a fine man Wade. I wish I could have gotten to know him."

Chuckling, Wade shook his head. "Maybe not, Uncle Ashley told me grandpa was very protective of mother, he might have run you off."

"Why Wade, what a thing to say," Rhett countered, laughter straying into his voice. "You're right but still." He rested a hand on Wade's shoulder. "I've missed you son, you and your sister."

As they began to walk toward the house, Wade glanced at his stepfather, his eyes holding unconcealed curiosity. "Uncle Rhett?"

"Yes Wade?"

"Why didn't you come to see us when mother was last here?"

"I couldn't leave Charleston," Rhett said, regretting the necessity of lying.

"Did Mother tell you what happened? How she wanted Ella and me to go with her to...to go to ..." Wade stopped, his voice trailing off into silence. Turning to face Rhett, his expression was suddenly guarded. "If you were in Charleston, why did mother want us to go to Savannah?"

"To see your great grandfather I expect, she was visiting with him."

"My Aunt Sue's not one to keep her own council. She often says things aloud that she shouldn't. I thought that she was just exaggerating, but maybe I was wrong. Did something happen between you and my mother?"

Rhett noted the emphasis on my before mother and, despite the serious nature of the conversation, he wanted to smile. Scarlett was afraid her son didn't love her, but from the way he'd said the word my, he was certain that Scarlett's concerns were unfounded. "We needed a little time apart Wade, just to clear our heads. Everything's fine now. We're fine, your mother and I, there's nothing to worry about."

"You're lying," observed Wade curtly. Shaking his head, he implored Rhett to tell him the truth. "While I've been here, I've been doing the work of two men and Uncle Will, he treats me accordingly. I need you to do the same. You and mother want me to go to Atlanta, to help you with Ella? For that to happen, I need to know that I'm not setting that little girl up for a disappointment."

"You won't be. In fact, your mother and I have a surprise for you and your sister. Something that I hope you'll be happy about."

"What is it," Wade asked, his suspicious largely unaddressed

"You'll have to wait until we're all together, but I think..."

"Tell me Uncle Rhett."

"I wouldn't want to ruin your mother's surprise."

Shaking his head, Wade took a step back. "She can't," he exclaimed without preamble, "mother almost died last time she tried. And, Aunt Melly did die. That's the surprise, isn't it," demanded Wade, "mother's going to have a baby?"

Rhett nodded. "She is."

"Why?" The pallor under his tan increased. "Why now, after all this time?"

"Wade..."

"She was sick for so long, what if something like that happens again?"

"It won't," Rhett told him, trying to reassure him. "Wade what happened the last time, it was an accident."

Wade's face was drawn. "I thought she was going to die," he whispered. His admission transformed him. The boy he still was replaced the confident man he'd been in the field. "I know you were scared too," accused Wade. "I remember hearing you screaming for help, after she fell. Then, you didn't leave your room the whole time she was lying in bed. I felt like any minute she would die and that would be the end."

"I felt that way too, Wade I was terrified when I thought of losing her. Every time her bedroom door opened, I thought it would be bad news. But she survived; and the reason she survived is because that's what your mother does. She survives what would break most people. Its one of the reasons I love her." He rested a hand on Wade's shoulder, "I promise you, everything has been settled, there's nothing to worry about."

"Has she seen a doctor?"

"She has. Before we left Savannah. He told your mother that she is the picture of health. There's nothing to worry about Wade, she is going to be fine. I plan on spoiling her terribly."

Wade grinned. "She'll like that."

"I'm counting on that."

"You're back for good then," Wade asked pointedly, wanting to know for certain that his stepfather intended to stay with his mother.

"I am."

Offering his hand to Rhett, Wade grinned, the joy in his warm brown eyes reminding Rhett suddenly of the late Mrs. Wilkes. Wade took after the Hamilton's but the stubborn set of his slightly pointed chin proclaimed him the son of Scarlett O'Hara. "Congratulations Uncle Rhett."

Rhett grinned. "I wouldn't voice that sentiment too loudly in front of your mother. She's pleased about this baby but not the subsequent weight gain that will go with it."

Wade ducked his head bashfully. "We shouldn't even being talking about this."

"You've been living on a farm, Wade; I doubt that you've no knowledge of ..."

"I'd rather we not talk about this," interrupted Wade, as a furious blush spread across his face.

Rhett grimaced. It would fall on his shoulders to make sure that when the time came, Wade had a proper introduction to the wicked world. But then, who else would or could do it? "Wade, you are thirteen years old now. In a few years, you'll want to go away to university; I will not let you go off without at least a rudimentary understanding of what goes on between men and women."

"Uncle Rhett." Wade groaned, obviously embarrassed by Rhett's candor.

"Don't Uncle Rhett me."

"I really don't..."

"Let me say this Wade. You are a young man who comes from a good family and you have connections to other good families."

"I know, I would never do anything to disgrace the family."

Rhett fixed him with a level look. "Wade, you would have to toil night and day to outdo your mother and me." The boy looked abashed so tactfully, Rhett let the topic of previous sins of the father, or mother in this case, drop. "Wade, you're also more than just a Hamilton or a Robiliard. You are more than a surname. You are loyal to your mother, protective of your sister, and you taking on this land," pride and love were there, in his expression, in his drawling voice, "Wade, you are too damn special for me to allow you to be taken advantage of by some predatory fortune hunter."

Wade scuffed a toe in the dirt, unsure of how to respond to such lofty praise from a man he'd always loved. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me for telling you the truth," replied Rhett, his voice now somewhat gruff.

Walking in silence, they did not speak again until they'd reached the gentle rise where Gerald had often stood observing his small kingdom. "Uncle Rhett?"

"Yes Wade?"

"I was wondering about something. About you and mother."

"Yes?" Rhett asked, his face carefully set in an expression of polite interest.

"Well, the first time you met my mother was the day of the party at Uncle Ashley's plantation, right?"

His lips tightened, but he only replied with a noncommittal, "Yes, that's right."

"And that was the day my father asked mother to marry him, wasn't it," said Wade, "Aunt Melly told me about it. That was the day she and Uncle Ashley were going to announce their engagement, did you know that?"

A half smile appeared on Rhett's lips. "Actually, I did know that," replied Rhett. "I remember hearing about their engagement," he added cryptically, remembering the scene that had played out before him in the library. "Is there something you want to know Wade?"

"How did you know that you were in love with mother? If it was love at first sight, then that must have been terrible..."

Rhett held up a hand. "Hold on son. I did met you mother that day, but I didn't just fall in love with her like that," he said, snapping his fingers.

"Oh," said Wade, disappointment written on his face.

"Wade, your mother was beautiful, certainly one of the most attractive women at the barbeque, but I didn't just fall in love with her. I was very interested in getting to know more about her, but if someone had asked would I one day marry her, I wouldn't have thought it likely."

"Because you were a bachelor," pressed Wade.

"Yes. I liked my freedom, very much in fact. For a long time, I was happy without any encumbrances."

"Then why did you marry mother after Uncle Frank died, if you were happy the way you were?"

"Because I'd lost her to two men, I wasn't willing to risk losing her again," Rhett replied truthfully.

"When did you know you loved her?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure Wade. Love doesn't work like that, not if it's really love. Real love, at least for me, developed over time. The longer I knew your mother, the more I couldn't be without her. I could be her friend, and was just that for years. But, as time passed, I didn't want to have to leave her and go back to a hotel room. In the end, finally I had to ask her to marry me. Your mother was, in my eyes, worth my freedom."

"But if she was worth marrying, what happened? Why were you two so unhappy?"

"For many reasons."

"Was Uncle Ashley one of those reasons?"

Rhett shrugged. "He was because I allowed him to be. Had I been kinder to your mother, I think she would have realized that I loved her."

"She didn't know you loved her," asked Wade, slightly aghast, "then why would she marry you?"

"Well," said Rhett, amusement creeping into his voice, "she was fond of me"

**  
I bet you all thought I died...its been well I don't know how long its been but I bet Alica knows. She keeps track of these things so that she can beat you over and over again until she yanks a chapter out of your brain.**

**Speaking of Alica, she and I are hosting a weekly GWTW podcast. Its really something else. You can find us on ofiddledeedee DOT mypodcast DOT com**

**TYL has one final chapter which I hope to post next Monday and then this joins the small list of CORNORAMA's completed fics. Not bad for a one shot.**


	17. The end

Pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips, Rhett's shaking hand reached out to lightly trace the chiseled word at the top of her headstone.

_Beloved._

He came here everyday since his return home. He wanted to stay away, he knew that continuing his vigil only wounded him still further, but he could not help himself. She had been so young. She had been too young to die so unexpectedly, too young to die when she had a lifetime yet to live. Who could say what she would have become given time. He'd loved her more than he ever expected to love another person.

There were moments when he felt as if he could let her go; times when he thought that it would be alright to let her memory fade a little. But, just when he was ready to move forward, he would swear that he could hear her light tread running up the stairs. Several times he'd thought he'd seen her outside, playing with Ella in the summer sun. Of course, these sounds and visions were simply figments of wishful thinking. She was gone and had been for some time.

How many times had he come from his study to find an empty staircase or rushed outside to find Ella alone? Ten, twenty, possibly thirty times? And every time he did it would all rush back in a wave of agony that drove him to visit her grave, to confirm that she was indeed gone.

Some nights he awoke, his heart pounding, groping blindly in the darkness. His voice, rough from sleep and unshed tears, breaking as he called her name. Praying that this would be the night when he awoke to find her curled on her side. He saw how it would be in his mind's eye hundreds of times; her dark hair fanned across the pillow, her small, red lips in a petulant little half pout.

But each time he lit the bedside lamp, she wasn't there. He always woke to a world from which she'd gone.

If he were still on speaking terms with God, he would thank him for sparing her any pain. At least she was sparred the agony of lingering in that twilight place between life and death where pain and suffering reigned supreme. Doctor Meade had repeatedly assured him that she'd died peacefully, most likely in an instant.

Yet, it was cold comfort that Doctor Meade offered, all he could ever offer given the situation. There were no words that could act as balm on his pain. She was gone, it was his fault she was gone; what words could fix that relentless ache?

There was a memory that his subconscious had found, a flash to his unpleasant childhood. A raccoon had bitten Bear, his dog who he'd raised from a pup. A few days later Bear began to show signs of going rabid.

His father was in the gunroom preparing to go and shoot Bear, to put him out of his misery. How old was he the summer Bear died, Rhett wondered, six maybe seven years old? Over forty years later, the memory still pained him. It was the first death of something he loved, that's why the memory lingered. Or perhaps, it lingered because of what happened next.

Just as his father was about to leave, his Grandfather Butler caught his father's arm. It should be Rhett that did it, his grandfather said. If his mother had been at the Landing, it would have never gone further than a suggestion; she would have put her foot down and stopped them. But she hadn't been home; she was gone, visiting cousins in Augusta.

That was when he'd learned not to depend on others, a vital lesson to be learned at the tender age of seven.

His grandfather had taken him down to the shed where Bear was quarantined. The dog, already in agony, stilled when he heard the sound of his young master's voice. Rhett believed that the dog thought he was there to help him. Bear loved him unconditionally, as no other person or beast ever would. Bear would have believed that Rhett could banish the sickness roaring through his body.

He'd hesitated in the doorway but his grandfather firmly propelled him through the door. He resisted, twisting away from the hand on his shoulder.

"Why do I have to do this," he asked his grandfather.

"Because you loved him, you cared for him, and now he needs you to end his pain. Part of becoming a man is being able to kill what you love for a greater good," his grandfather replied.

Becoming a man, Rhett scoffed silently, he was seven years old at the time, hardly ready for one of the most bitter lessons of manhood. He hoped his father and grandfather were keeping one another company in hell.

Taking up the gun, he cocked it but then he made the mistake of looking into Bear's soft amber colored eyes. The little dog had done nothing but adore him since the day he was weaned, how could he end such a special life? He couldn't. Instead, he fired into the roof, bringing down sawdust and a few shingles. Then, before his grandfather could stop him, he bolted, running away from the shed as fast as his legs would carry him. Away from Bear, and his pleading eyes, away from his friend who needed him more in that moment then he ever had before.

But, no matter how fast, it wasn't fast enough to escape the two sharp retorts that came from the shed a minute later.

It was a memory that never really left him. It was that day that forever destroyed his faith in God and the infallibility of his elders. What sort of merciful God allows a boy's only friend to contract rabies? What kind of a man instructs a seven year old to shoot his dog?

He'd told Scarlett that story one night about a month after they'd returned to Atlanta. At first, she was rendered speechless. It was the most personal story he'd ever told her and that was a great deal of what was wrong with the first half of their marriage. She never understood him because he never told her anything beyond the superficial.

Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped a bit of lichen from her headstone. He was finally able to find comfort in his children. In their mannerisms, their expressions, their uncanny ability to resemble her just when he missed her most. When he'd first lost Bonnie, he had closed himself off from both Wade and Ella. Now, he saw that he should have spent time with them, they would have helped him heal.

It was in Ella that he saw her most.

Wade was distant these days; nothing he did pleased the boy. He tried but too much had happened. One day, he hoped that Wade would see things from his side. It hurt to be estranged from his son, especially now, when Rhett needed him most.

Losing Bonnie had nearly destroyed him. If not for Wade and Ella, losing Scarlett and their baby would have finished him.

Removing the burgundy rose from his buttonhole, he lightly traced the bloom over her name before placing it gently on the headstone. It was a familiar ritual, one he'd repeated nearly every day for the last year since she'd died.

It seemed as if it happened only yesterday. He could still recall, in haunting detail, that last terrible morning. Coming back to the house after an early morning meeting at the bank to find her curled on her side, her face turned toward the window, the sunlight illuminating her pale skin. She glowed with the light of the morning sun, he'd thought reaching out to stroke her bare shoulder. Her skin was cool to the touch, not cold exactly, but he knew. She was gone and had been for some time, perhaps even hours.

He knew in his cool, logical mind that she was dead, that no one who was living could be so cold and their skin so unyielding. His mind knew all these things but his heart refused to accept and so he begged her to live. He pleaded with her even though he knew it was in vain. He even begged God, losing her brought him so low as to ask a favor of that omnipotent bastard. He had begged God not to take her, reminded God that he'd taken Bonnie already he couldn't take Scarlett and their child too.

Some of the servants must have heard him because suddenly, Doctor Meade was taking him by the arm. The elderly doctor tried to escort him from the room but he fought like a cornered animal. He had some dim memories of Pork and several of the stable hands forcibly removing him from her side. He also remembered screaming for her, her name echoing as his voice bounced off the high ceiling in their bedroom.

Just before Doctor Meade closed the door, he heard the echo fade away into a whisper; it seemed as if the house itself was calling for its lost mistress.

Doctor Meade said it was her heart. He suggested that she'd never fully recovered from her fall down the stairs and the subsequent miscarriage thereafter. There might have been damage beyond what he'd been able to ascertain Doctor Meade had explained to the silent, expressionless man sitting across from him. A man who he doubted would ever feel again.

There was nothing left without her.

Nothing.

She'd died peacefully continued Doctor Meade, attempting to comfort Rhett. He pointed out that her expression was that of peaceful slumber; tranquil and lost somewhere in dreams. As it happened, lost for all time.

He only had a few hazy memories of what happened next. He recalled throwing Doctor Meade out of the house and locking himself in the study. Henry Hamilton finally persuaded him to open the door. After pouring a large tumbler of brandy, he drained it in only a few swallows. The drink consumed seemed to fortified his courage. Having been told by Doctor Meade about what had previously transpired he began by softly asking if Rhett understood that Scarlett was gone.

In an innocent attempt to judge Rhett's sanity, he only succeeded in making Rhett lash out.

"I know she's dead, God damn it Henry, I'm drunk not crazy."

"I didn't mean to imply anything; Doctor Meade sent for me so I wanted to come and see you."

"So now you've seen me, so get the hell out of my house."

"Rhett, I think I should stay. You need to have people around you. I know this is difficult, it's a tragedy but,"

"I don't need people, I need Scarlett." Rhett moved past him but Henry caught his arm.

"You listen to me Rhett Butler, I know you want to drink yourself into a stupor so you don't have to deal with this. God knows I don't begrudge you that instinct, but you have two children who need you desperately. Melly is gone, and now so is Scarlett. Wade and Ella are going to need you to be strong."

Sitting heavily, Rhett cradled his head in his hands. "Wade's at Tara, how can I tell him that she's gone?" He looked up at Henry, "You could go to Tara and tell him, bring him home."

"I don't think I should. It has to be you Rhett. He needs you to tell him, you have to do this for him."

He looked up at Henry, his dark eyes bloodshot and red rimmed. "Part of becoming a man is being able to kill what you love for a greater good," he said. Then he fell silent, his head falling back into the cradle of his hands.

Seeing the shape Rhett was in, Henry knew that he had to do something. Rhett had placed the blame squarely on himself. Giving Rhett a few minutes to compose himself, Henry offered a deal. If Rhett would get dressed, Henry would send for one of his clients, a Doctor Raithe, come to the house and examine Scarlett to see if he could ascertain what had happened.

Fortified by several cups of black coffee, Rhett answered the young physician's questions to the best of his knowledge. How had she been feeling proved to be particularly reveling. If asked that question the day before she died, he would have said she was fine. Tired, but looking forward to the baby's arrival. But now, forced to examine her health in minute detail, he saw that she hadn't been well. She'd taken to napping in the afternoon. The store had been placed under the care of a manager that she trusted to oversee the day to day running. That alone should have severed as an indicator. Scarlett trusted no one when it came to her businesses.

The doctor used his questions to probe deep, like a surgeon with a scalpel. He made Rhett see that Scarlett must have been feeling unwell for some time but she'd been concealing it from him. Probably, he now realized, in an attempt to spare him.

So he wouldn't worry.

Gently, Doctor Raithe told Rhett that without an autopsy they could never know for certain what precisely had gone wrong, but he could make an educated guess without one. Having learned during his questioning of Rhett that Scarlett preferred to sleep on her back, he ventured a hypothesis. There was a school of thought, emerging from Harvard's medical college, that said a woman should not sleep on her back as the weight of the womb could compress the vena cava, a major collection of blood vessels. In a woman who was in perfect health, this would merely cause a moment of breathlessness or perhaps a spell of lightheadedness. In Scarlett's case, she had already been unwell so the constant pressure on the vena cava had only exacerbated the situation.

Rhett remembered nodding, thanking the doctor and then asking him to leave. Henry tried to intervene, but the young Doctor was astute. He offered his condolences and told Rhett to send for him if he was needed further.

In those first terrible days after she'd died, he moved through life without emotions, she was gone and nothing else mattered. Nothing, except the question of where to bury her and their unborn child.

He decided to return to Charleston. It was the only place for him and the children. Scarlett hadn't cared for it, but she would have understood. Atlanta was a land of loss and regrets.

It made complete sense to him. Instead of interring Scarlett out at Tara or next to Bonnie, he would have her buried in the Butler burial ground at the Landing. She had been his wife. She had been the only woman he ever really loved. The Butler burial ground was where she belonged, near him always, until the day he died.

It was that decision that had irreparably harmed his relationship with Wade. He was already distraught but when Rhett had informed him of his decision, Wade broke down into a fit of rage. Since then, they'd barely spoken.

On the day of the memorial in Atlanta, the boy had accused him of being selfish, of knowingly going against Scarlett's wishes. He insisted she would want to be at Tara, that to bury her anywhere else was an act of supreme treachery against Scarlett's memory.

In the end, it took the combined efforts of Will and Ashley Wilkes to silence Wade. They took Wade aside and begged him, for Scarlett's sake, to be still and allow the service to continue.

Wade, who was truly his mother's son, refused to be still, crying out that his mother loved Tara and that's where she belonged. Then, with tears streaming down his face, Wade declared he would never forgive him for killing Scarlett. Henry tried to stop him, but the boy would not be silenced. It was Rhett's fault; he should have known this could happen. He should have protected her as he promised he would.

Finally, Ashley was able to quiet him and the service continued. From his seat next to his cousin and uncle, Wade stared straight ahead, an air of defeat clinging to him.

Now, more than a year later, their relationship was still damaged.

Ella was devastated by the loss of Scarlett. She'd asked to go back to Tara with Will and Suellen after the service, but he refused. He could not and would not leave her to be raised by a woman who despised Scarlett so vehemently.

Ella was better off with him and his mother in Charleston. She attended the convent school where her Aunt Careen taught and was slowly coming out of the cocoon she'd encased herself in since Scarlett's death.

At least, that's what he told himself.

In reality Ella was withdrawn now, often losing herself in daydreams. The giddy, chattering child she'd once been was gone now, replaced with a shy, retiring little girl who cringed when singled out for attention.

He'd tried to talk to her about Scarlett several times. Each time she would start to cry quietly until he excused her. Then, once he gave permission for her to leave, she would run from the room as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels

He was failing her. Scarlett would have expected him to care for her children, to help them cope with her loss. Instead he only made Ella uncomfortable and Wade...Wade hated him.

.Every other week, they would receive a terse letter from Wade. He was attending an exclusive boarding school in Richmond. Rhett offered to send him to one of the seven schools suitable for a boy of his promise in Charleston or Colombia but Wade insisted on being away.

His letters were short and to the point. He assured his sister that he was well and inquired after her health and that of Mrs. Butler. Never did his letters mention Rhett. When he came to visit on school holidays he stayed secluded in his room. One night, when he was smoking on the piazza, Wade came out but when he saw Rhett, he turned to leave.

"Wait, Wade" Rhett called, "We need to talk. I know you're angry with me."

"You don't know what I am," replied the boy coldly. "I don't even know what I am. If I don't know, how could you?"

"When I decided to bring your mother here, I did what I thought was..."

Wade's face twisted, turning ugly in the light of the waning moon. For a split second he looked as Scarlett had that afternoon in the jail, when she'd come wearing her mother's curtains. The way his eyes narrowed, the sheer loathing in his expression; Rhett had seen them before.

"Don't you pretend you thought bringing her here was right. She hated Charleston. She told me that she did. She would have wanted to be with my grandparents at Tara and you know that." He turned away, his shoulders shaking as he tried to push his emotions under control. "I could almost understand if you'd wanted to bury her next to Bonnie that would make sense to me. But you know what you did when you took her here? You stole my mother's body!"

"Wade, that isn't so, I brought her here because she was my wife--"

"She was my mother! When I asked you if she was in any danger from having another baby, do you remember what you told me? You swore that everything was going to be alright, does this look like alright to you?" His hands balled into fists at his sides. "Well, does it?"

"Wade I'm sorry. I thought that she would be fine. I never thought things would end as they did."

"But they did end this way. Mother is dead and you're not. You're here and she isn't. Maybe that was how you wanted it to work out. Maybe, this is what you wanted all along, to have one less encumbrance," he spat out, throwing Rhett's admission from the previous year back in his face.

Before he could think of a reply, Wade fled, his bedroom door slamming behind him a few seconds later. He tried to talk to him the next day, before he left to go back to school, but it was no use, what could he say against Wade's accusations? Yes, he'd brought Scarlett's body back to Charleston for entirely selfish reasons. There was nothing he could offer to refute that.

Sitting down on a chunk of masonry that had broken off from his great grandfather's crypt, he tried once again to talk to her as if she were present. It never worked. He had never felt her presence, not once, since she'd died. Ironically, he would have been grateful if she haunted him as a spirit. There was never a time where he felt her near him.

She was gone.

Since his return, people would stop by his mother's house, offering their condolences. Rhett found his was just able to force himself to accept them. He hated the moment when a person's expression changed just slightly and he knew what was coming next. He could see the look of sympathy in their eyes just before they began. First, the small sigh, then the patting of his hand, and finally the words, "Oh Rhett, I only just heard...I'm so sorry."

But what he really hated with a passion was the continued interest in his marital state. Twice in the last two months he'd overheard his mother's friends speculating on whether he would marry again. It was a topic that fascinated people, would Rhett Butler remain a widower?

Even his normally sensible mother had suggested, in a very round about way, that Ella needed a mother and perhaps he needed someone to love again.

How could he love someone else? He barely knew how he'd fallen in love with Scarlett. It wasn't something planned. Love wasn't something he'd ever sought out. It certainly wasn't something that he'd wanted, but that night he kissed her on the way to Tara; he'd known. He'd fallen in love with her so completely that it shut out the possibility of loving anyone else.

She was in his blood, alive again in his dreams. There were nights when he awoke in the middle of making love to her, only to find himself in an empty bed. Those were the nights when he drew on his clothes and walked. He would walk and walk until he was so physically exhausted that when he returned to the house he would collapse into bed and sleep undisturbed for a few hours.

Some nights, while walking, he would find himself in one of Charleston's more opulent whorehouses. Just as before, when she'd left him, he chose blondes and redheads. Never the pretty, made up girls with dark locks. No woman that in some incidental way might resemble Scarlett. He was impossible to please, most nights he just allowed the girls to perform until he achieved some sort of physical release. It was only a physical response, his heart and mind weren't present and most of the girls he took upstairs sensed it.

He was in agony. Every morning he awoke to a world without her. Suddenly he understood the Taj Mahal. He understood why men through the ages built towering monuments to grief. Every waking minute of every day his grief threatened to spill forth constantly.

Just once, when a friend of his mother's asked, "How are you Rhett", he'd like to tell her the truth. He'd like to unleash all of the pain in his heart and choke the nosy bitch with it.

Margaret and Ross had been blessed with a beautiful baby girl. They stepped lightly around him; trying hard not to let their baby, Olivia, get underfoot when they stopped by his mother's house. Their daughter Olivia was a chubby, pretty little baby. Looking at the child only served to remind him of what he'd lost.

Lately, they were careful to bring the baby over only when they were sure he was at the Landing. Not that he blamed them, who would want a man in his current state around a small child?

Walking to the docks, he waited for the launch to take him back to the battery. Even sailing no longer gave him any peace. The Bonnie Blue had been replaced with another sailboat, a trim white craft named Beloved. He'd spent hours trying to lose himself between the waves and sky but she was never far from his thoughts.

A glare off the water blinded him all momentarily; he pretended that was what brought sharp, sudden tears to his eyes. There was a poem that he'd learned many years ago drummed into him by some long forgotten tutor. The words were never far from his mind now:

_And so we to came where the rest have come,_

_To where each dreamed, each drew, the other home_

_From all distractions,_

_Where each had found, each other._

_For that we came, and knew that we must know_

_The thing we knew of but we did not know. _

_We said then, What if this were now no more_

_Than a faint shade of what we dreamed before?_

_If love should here find little joy or none,_

_And done, it were as if it were not done,_

_Would we not love still? What if none can know_

_The thing we know of but we do not know._

How could she be gone, he thought, as the launch docked, when she wouldn't leave him alone?

The end

**Surprised? Yeah, I guess you might be. I am actually surprised too. Maybe you didn't see it ending this way. I don't know how I saw it ending.**

**Look it happen like this. I gave Dani a choice, it was either Scarlett here or Toby the dog from Facing the Enemy. Someone was dying. She picked Scarlett so this is how it ended. I want to just say, Toby had a really touching funeral written out, but easy come easy go. Besides, I did kill Rhett's childhood so there was still a dead dog.**

**And so ends the one shot that would not die. Thank you everyone for reading**

PS Thanks Alica, now you have me hooked on the voice recognition software.

PPS

A reader questioned if this could have really been a cause of death so I wanted to clarify.

Remember that this was an emerging study in 1874. A study from the 1870's might not hold up to modern standards. Also in the Harvard study I read (lol, yeah there is a thing as too much research, they termed the vena cava, as both vein and a major collection of blood vessels. For all the Doctor knew, it could have been a stroke, aneurysm, a blood clot or just one of those fun little who knows until we cut the body open.

Could you imagine Rhett Butler allowing Scarlett to be autopsied? Not me.

I am also open to a combination of sleep apnea and some unknown. LOL, I picture Scarlett to be a snorer.

However, women are to this day cautioned not to sleep on their backs later into their pregnancies. While I was pregnant, my obgyn gave me a packet that cites the phrase S.O.S (sleep on side) because I told him that yes I am a back sleeper.

If you have a further interest in where my diagnosis came from also research Supine hypotensive syndrome (and Inferior vena cava syndrome) or visit women's pregnancy and health forums, this is often a topic of interest discussion.

I forgot to include it in my PM to the reviewer, www DOT bio DASH medicine DOT org is my new fav site, you might like it.


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